


Sold to the Devil

by Majinie



Series: Sold to the Devil [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, But mostly angst, Canon Divergence - Iron Man 1, Canon Divergence - Pre-Thor (2011), Fluff, M/M, Magic, Nightmares, Odin's A+ Parenting, PTSD, Palladium Poisoning, Panic Attacks, Slavery, Swearing, Tony-centric, Trauma, hurt/ comfort, mentions of past abuse/rape, slave!tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 142,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4123003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majinie/pseuds/Majinie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon Divergence. Obadiah Stane still sells Tony out the way he does to the Ten Rings, however, the Ten Rings (before they get blown to smithereens) and Stane make another deal to get rid of him and earn a bit of money. They sell him to space slave traders so he’ll be a profit that will never annoy them again. Tony gets grabbed and shoved into such a life, but he isn’t an easy slave to control; he’s sharp and broken and smart and he keeps escaping, pissing off the ‘owners’ who buy him so he gets sent back with another few bruises and scars. But Tony is learning and constantly planning. He won’t be a ‘slave’ for long.</p><p>He’s still doing that x amount of months into his slavery when Thor, Loki and the Warriors Three are on the same planet as him - where the slave trade is accepted and prevalent - and Loki, known for strikes of “whimsy” that no one understands, buys Tony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I found this prompt on Tumblr and was like "Yep. I'm doing that."  
> This story will be beta'ed by the wonderful Myrsky, she's absolutely awesome for putting up with my writing rythm and also a great writer herself. This wouldn't be half as enjoyable without her.

The ice cubes rattled in his scotch glass as Tony Stark, famous inventor and billionaire, stared out of the window of the truck into the desert. He noticed the glances of the young soldiers who sat in it with him, of course he noticed them – darting between him, the scotch and the small cassette recorder that was blaring AC/DC loudly. He could practically _hear_ the 'spoiled citizen' thoughts in their heads, but he frankly didn't care. 

 

Anyway, the tense silence that hung over them, despite the music, unnerved him. The young soldier beside him kept staring at him nervously, and eventually, he spoke up: “I feel like you're driving me to a court-martial, this is crazy. What did I do? I feel like you're gonna pull over and snuff me out. What, you're not allowed to talk? Hey, Forrest!”

 

“We can talk, sir”, the man beside him replied, looking deeply uncomfortable.

 

“Oh. I see. So it's personal?”

 

“No, you intimidate them”, their driver replied, and –

 

“Good God, you're a woman!”, Tony commented drily. “I honestly couldn't have called that. I mean, I'd apologize, but isn't that what we're going for here? I thought of you as a soldier first.” Finally, the guy beside him cracked up with a grin.

 

“I'm an airman”, the driver replied curtly.

 

Tony went on: “But you have actually excellent bone structure there, I'm kind of... having a hard time not looking at you now. Is that weird?”  And  _finally_ the rest of the soldiers laughed, too, including the one he was currently flirting with. “Come on, it's okay, laugh, hey!”, he exclaimed. This mood was much closer to his likings.

 

“Sir, I have a question to ask”, the other soldier, sitting next to the driver's seat, said.  
  


“Yes, please.”  
  


“Is it true you went twelve for twelve with last year's Maxim cover models?”  
  


"That is an excellent question. Yes and no. March and I had a scheduling conflict, but fortunately, the Christmas cover was twins. Anything else?” The young soldier beside him raised his fingers shyly. “You're kidding me with the hands-up, right?"

 

“Is it cool if I take a picture with you?”

 

"Yes. It's very cool.” Excitedly, the young soldier handed his camera to another, the one who was sitting in the copilot spot. “All right. I don't want to see this on your MySpace page”, Tony told him. The boy raised two fingers in a peace sign. “Please, no gang signs.” A little disappointed, the hand went down again. “No, throw it up, I'm kidding. Yeah, peace. I love peace.” The last part was muttered: “I'd be out of a job with peace.”  
  


“Come on. Hurry up. Just click it. Don't change any settings. Just click it”, the boy urged the other, and he was just about to finally do it and click, when –

 

An explosion shook the truck, suddenly everything was on fire, there were gunshots, and Tony heard one of the soldiers shout “Jimmy, stay with Stark!” before being told to keep his head down. With wide eyes he stared out of the window, not really able to make anything out and still not quite grasping what the actual hell was going on, until he saw one of the soldiers getting shot, the one that had just been taking the photo of him and the young boy.

 

“Son of a bitch!”, Jimmy yelled and threw open the door of the car.

 

“Wait wait wait, gimme a gun!”, Tony shouted, but the soldier just threw the door shut again and yelled: “Stay _here_!”, turned around and in the next second, the metal of the car housing was full of holes and Tony had to fight nausea creeping up in him at the thought of what had just happened. His ears were ringing and his sight slightly blurred as he looked around and then, after giving himself a pause of a few seconds, he jumped out of the car and dodged bullets and other explosions as good as he could while searching for a place to take shelter.

 

He jumped behind a rock and pulled out his phone, dialling hurriedly when he heard a sound he knew just all too well from weapon tests he had participated in. He looked up, seeing a missile stuck in the ground. His heart, already beating frantically behind his ribcage, doubled its pace as he saw the logo imprinted on the metal shell.

 

_Stark Industries_ .

 

Panicked, he scrambled to his feet, the fear making him clumsy, and heard himself scream when the missile detonated and hauled his body into the air, throwing it like a lifeless puppet.

 

For a few seconds, everything was dark, and when he opened his eyes, the ringing in his ears was back and there was a strange feeling on his chest, warm and wet. Groaning from the burning pain, he ripped open his shirt with unsteady hands. Its white fabric had turned red in several places and he could see the growing pool of blood on his chest before blacking out.

 

~*~

 

After he had lost consciousness, everything was a blur of white lights, distorted voices speaking in foreign languages and glimpses of persons hovering over him when he woke up for a few seconds before fading into blackness again, people, light, voices, persons, voices, darkness,  _pain_ , screaming, a sharp pain in his chest, more people talking, a camera, a cloth on his face, darkness.

 

~*~

 

When Tony woke up again, the first thing he noticed was that he was cold. Then, running a hand over his face, he felt a tube coming out of his nose and started pulling at it with a disgusted grunt. He felt like it was going on and on and on, but of course, it did not and he could rip off the last remaining straps that had been holding it.

 

With trembling fingers, he reached for the water that was standing next to his bed (if it could be called a  _bed_ ), but he was so numb from the cold that he only managed to throw it over. Rolling to his side, he felt a sharp pull in his chest.

 

“I wouldn't do that if I were you”, a voice said, startling him.

 

With growing incredulity, he stared at the cables that were coming from the bandages over his chest, leading to something standing beside him that  _please, please_ wasn't a _fucking car battery_ . Close to hyperventilating, he started to tear the white fabric apart, revealing something embedded in his chest, in his ribcage, something that –

 

“What is that?”, he asked breathlessly, slumping back to stare at the ceiling of the cave he was in with wide eyes. What the actual fuck was going on here?

 

“It's a magnet hooked to a car battery”, the man replied matter-of-factly while shaving himself. “You have shrapnel shards in your chest, I couldn't take all of them out. It keeps them from entering your heart.”

 

~*~

 

The next days went by in a blur. Sometimes, it was like Tony was watching himself, miniaturizing the arc reactor in his head so it could fit into the housing in his chest. Being tortured into building missiles for terrorists. It was surely the most horrific time he had  _ever_ had in his life, but at the same time he managed to stay enough of an observer not to freak out. He didn't have a breakdown. He carried on – of course not without resistance. While pretending to work on the Jericho missile he had promised those crazed Taliban or whatever they were, he planned something else.

 

Absently, he tapped the reactor in his chest that he had managed to build with the index finger of his left hand. _Enough energy to power my heart for fifty lifetimes_ , he thought. _Or something big for fifteen minutes._ The other hand was scribbling down notes and calculations on the thin paper he had been provided with. Not plans for a missile though. No, he wasn't _that_ easy to beat.

 

He was Tony fucking Stark, and he was alive and kicking. Well, the kicking would come later. For now, he'd just –

 

The metal door burst open and with a startle, the engineer dropped his pen and grimaced as he saw the line he had drawn over his sketches when he had winced. He'd never get used to this. Raising his hands, he turned towards the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yinsen doing the same, but he didn't get to translate anything this time like he usually did for him.

 

Tony was seized by his arms by two terrorists who dragged him forward and out of the cave roughly. Tony's protests went unnoticed (or ignored, that was more like it) and they didn't even bother with covering his eyes or something. With every step they forced him to take he felt the dread in his stomach well up more viciously.

 

But they still needed him, so whatever was going to happen, he was not going to get killed during it, which meant as soon as he was back in his 'workshop', he could continue building the suit he was absolutely not building. Ha, these guys were so blissfully stupid, he could've been making a coffee machine as far as they were concerned, and they wouldn't doubt it was a missile until they tried to get it to explode.

 

The light from outside the cave came as a surprise; it had to be midday because it was so damn bright. Or maybe he just wasn't used to sunlight anymore. Which way ever, he had to squint and couldn't really see anything while they dragged him down into the village. Only when they stopped, he looked up. The sight made him freeze.

 

When he spotted Obadiah, he was flooded by relief for a second. There was someone he knew, and he was here to rescue him, to get him out of this madness, and for a moment he even thought of asking him if they could take Yinsen with them, too. And then he suddenly realized: No. Obadiah wasn't here to save him. If he were, he wouldn't be standing there in an Armani suit, smirking and completely relaxed despite the fact that he was surrounded by terrorists.

 

“Obie?”, he croaked out, hating how uncertain, how lost he sounded. “What are you doing here?”

 

The man's smirk turned into a grin, warm and friendly and nauseatingly fake. He spread his arms as if he was going to hug Tony, not bothering to take notice of the way the engineer was still held in place with _his_ arms twisted painfully behind his back, making anything similar to a hug impossible. Well, not that it would really have been Obadiah's intention.

 

“Tony!”, he said, like greeting an old friend he hadn't seen in a few months. “How wonderful to see you up on your feet and”, his eyes wander over Tony's bruised and beaten form briefly, “so _well._ ” Then he seemed to remember the question he had been posed and, a little belatedly, replied: “I'm just here to say goodbye to you, boy.”

 

There was something inside of him shattering at these words, feeling like there was a rug being pulled from under him, stripping him of every grounding he had had to stand on. He all but breathed: “What?”

 

“Don't take it personal”, Obadiah said, stepping forward to throw his arm around Tony's shoulders, ushering the men away who had been holding him. “Actually, I never wanted it to come to this. It should've been over pretty fast, you weren't even supposed to see all this.” He made a gesture that included the whole camp. Tony still tried to wrap his head around what was happening. This couldn't actually be real, could it? Was – was Obadiah saying that had been planned? _It should've been over pretty fast_ – had he meant to _kill_ him? Breathing around the arc reactor was painful all of sudden and any words he could have uttered were stuck in his throat. “As I said, nothing personal. It's about the company, nothing else.”

 

Money. Had this been a _little_ less serious (a little less _deciding over his life_ ), Tony would have laughed. It was about money. Just that. “ _Money_ ”, he said numbly. “Money, Obie? I've got tons of that. You could have just fucking asked me.” He felt his fingernails digging into his palms as he tried to stop his hands from shaking. “Please tell me that's just a bad joke”, he whispered, still staring at the ground with far too wide eyes, and that hadn't even been supposed to come out.

 

“Oh, Tony, not the _money_ ”, Obadiah laughed. “It's the _company_. But I guess a spoiled little brat like you wouldn't understand that.” Tony really, really felt like throwing up. Maybe on Obadiah's feet. Or his expensive suit.

 

“And now?”, he asked, surprisingly calm. At least, he sounded like that. Everything inside was a blur of feelings; betrayal, fear, anger, uncertainty. “Are you gonna shoot me or what?”

 

“That's not very subtle, is it?”, the other man said. Like he hadn't already ordered terrorists to kill him once. “No, I've decided for something else. We're going to sell you.”

 

And that was when Tony ripped himself free of his grip, stumbled to the side of the road and threw up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda curious how many people from Insomnia I'll meet again here. Hopefully this beginning isn't as awful as the one to that one (I really, REALLY hate beginnings and I can just promise it'll get better and hope that you'll believe me).  
> Please tell me what you think! (Although this is kinda... just a prologue and the actual story will only just get started, but... whatever.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little time slip into several months of Tony's captivity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand look, the plot begins! :D

Tony stumbled and fell when he was shoved into his cell. With a strained groan, he collapsed to his side and just focussed on breathing for a few minutes. Blood was dripping from a laceration just above his eyebrow, and he didn't even want to start thinking about his back. That sick bastard had fucking _whipped_ him.

Anyway, he had won again, although his victory felt shallow compared to the pain on his whole body. This was the eighth slave holder who had returned him. The toughest one had lasted something over two months, although he wasn't quite sure about that. It was difficult to keep track of the time when you were on a different planet.

 _Sold as a slave_ – at first he had thought it had been a joke. Especially when Obadiah had added that he was to be given to _space slave traders_ , because seriously, what the fuck? Humanity tried for _decades_ to find extraterrestrial life, and when Obie wanted it, there suddenly were _space slave holders_ at his service?

But it wasn't half as funny as it sounded, because he had been sedated and when he had woken up, he had been in a plain metal cell that apparently belonged to a space ship (without a fucking clue of why and how). Which he was on. In chains. To be sold. As a slave. To aliens.

What a great joke, ha-fucking-ha.

And he had been sold, yes. But he was stubborn, he was not controlled that easily. His first 'owner' had returned him after just two weeks, and since then he was never, ever faltering in his resistance. Soon he had a reputation among the slave traders – he always ended up where he had first been sold to by Obadiah – and they started only to sell him to people who appeared to be strong enough to handle him. From then on, it got worse; he was bought with the special purpose to be broken, and sometimes even he thought that his torturers had succeeded.

But they didn't, they never managed to actually keep him down and obedient, because he was Tony Stark, he just didn't do obedience. He kept being defiant, insolent and sometimes he went for outright annoying, so in the end, he was always returned. Always.

He had sworn to himself it would stay that way. Someday, he would find a way out. The last time, he had almost did it; his 'owner', and mind the quotation marks here, had thought he had done it, had beaten his slave into shape, and had made the huge mistake to loosen his boundaries. Tony had asked for a blade to shave himself. He had gotten his blade, he had trimmed his goatee, and then he had attempted to slit the guy's throat.

Unfortunately, it hadn't quite played out the way he had imagined it, and now he lay on the floor, whipped bloody, waiting for the next auction that was sure to come. Maybe the trick with the razor would work twice, it wasn't like his 'owners' were chatting about the things their disobedient slaves had tried to escape, right? Most of the time, they weren't even from the same race and Tony was grateful that most of them looked at least remotely human. He hadn't seen a _real_ human being in months, the last ones had been the terrorists and Obadiah.

Thinking of that people, he wasn't sure if humans were all that much better than aliens. Apparently, being an asshole wasn't limited to one race. Sometimes he wished that they had just shot him, but he always banished those thoughts quickly. No way in hell he was going to give up. No. Not him, not because of them, not because of anything. He wasn't going to break down, no matter what happened. After all, his sane mind was everything he had.

Despite the pain in his back and the racing thoughts that made his head hurt even more, Tony fell asleep.

The hissing sound of the opening door woke him up and when he shifted, he couldn't fight a pained groan. He hadn't even managed to get to the flat mattress in the corner of the small room, meaning he had slept for God-knew-how-long on the cold metal floor and the dried blood on his back caused an unpleasant pulling sensation when he moved.

"Up", the entering alien commanded (he had never quite understood why everyone he met was able to understand him and the other way around – it was fucking creepy). "Time to get washed, we're almost at the next stop." Tony sighed, he had hoped for some more time to recover. Sometimes, they were travelling for several days before there was another audition. Well, he wasn't that lucky this time.

With a routine that was frightening to him (when had he gotten _so_ used to all of this?) he let himself be led to the rooms where the slaves were being cleaned. The traders were by far the best 'owners' he'd ever had because they kept their _products_ all neat and tidy, well-fed and not smelling. They had to make a good impression after all, nobody bought a dirty, starved slave. _Ha_.

The lukewarm water burned when it came in contact with the raw skin of his back, but the engineer gritted his teeth and didn't complain. It was of no use. He might have muttered some curses and insults under his breath anyway.

When he was clean, he felt a lot better, although those whipping marks hurt like a bitch. He dried down, slipped the new clothes on and followed the other slaves – no, not _the other_ slaves, the slaves; he wasn't a slave and he would never be – to get his food. It was some sort of mushed... something he didn't want to think closely about, tasted like nothing and was pretty filling. Nobody ever asked for seconds.

The room they ate in was plain and the tables and benches, all made of metal, were nailed down to the floor. Somewhere behind Tony, there was a turmoil. He took another spoonful of his food, not even bothering to turn around or listening to the yelling that came up. This happened every now and then and was absolutely pointless; why start a rebellion on the goddamn ship? Even if someone managed to knock the guards out temporarily, they were in the middle of space and there was no chance of escape. When they were at the market, yes. Then it made sense. But here? Just a waste of energy.

He finished, let himself be taken to his cell, and waited for their arrival. The worst part about the space ship was the boredom because the sla– the prisoners ( _he was nobody's damn slave_ ) had cells on their own, no roommates or, actually, cellmates.

Anyway, this was preferable to being sold because each time seemed to be worse than the last one. Some aliens had some very sick minds, and now that he thought about that, he realized that he absolutely didn't want to spend even a minute doing that. He was tough, and if not that, then at least stubborn, and he wasn't going to – no, he wasn't scared, no matter what happened, he wasn't actually _scared_ by anything. Nobody would manage that.

Realizing that now, instead of staying calm, he drove himself into the panic he had wanted to avoid, Tony sighed and dropped his head into his hands. No. No panicking. He was calm, he was going to find a way out of all this and return home.

 _Home_.

Were they still searching for him? Or had they assumed that he had been blown to shreds during the assault on the track? Maybe Pepper had found out about Obadiah's intrigues? But no, not even Tony had noticed that the guy who had practically been his father was plotting against him. How should she do it, then?

Thoughtfully, he tapped the arc reactor in his chest. It had stopped feeling alien at some point (and now that he had actually met some, the term 'feeling alien' carried a much more unpleasant meaning than before) and he was just surprised none of his capturers had tried to take it out yet. They seemed to assume, having never seen a human before, that it was a part of his body which he needed to survive. He wasn't going to correct them.

The re-opening of the door interrupted his thoughts. Tony considered just staying where he was, refusing to move another step, but that would mean he would be trapped here forever, and that was just stupid. Anyway, he hesitated for too long, and suddenly he was pulled to his feet roughly.

"Jesus, guys, _careful_!", he snapped as his back protested at the harsh treatment. "Don't damage your most beautiful piece of cargo." There was no response to that, only cuffs fastened around his wrists and – "Oh, give me a break, you're not gonna _gag_ me, are you? That's – mpfh...!" He struggled more than he usually did, because seriously, a muzzle?! That was new.

But of course, every protest was in vain and so he eventually let himself be led out of the ship out to the market they had stopped at this time. It was cold, the planed seemed to be made mostly of some sort of chilly deserted stone and the sand looked greyish, cold and unfriendly. A draft of air made Tony shudder. Jeez, he was really lucky to have Earth.

...Had been lucky.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he looked around at the market. It was crowded and the chatter of the... _people_ was a constant buzzing sound in his ears. Their skin was some shade of greyish blue and they were pretty small, smaller than any human. About three feet, most of them. Like blue Hobbits.

There wasn't really much to see, so Tony lined up with the rest of the slaves and settled for some really, really boring hours of waiting. And he couldn't even annoy his guards with some rambling (although they never actually _showed_ signs of annoyance when he did, but it's the thought that counts) so the boredom factor was increased thousandfold. Well, that could only be a good day.

He had no idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, not very detailed, but that's what flashbacks are for. There'll be more.   
> (And I really had no idea how to to make Obie contact the aliens, so it's a bit vague on that. Not lazy. Nope.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Audience, meet Loki. Loki, meet Tony. Tony, stop gaping.

Tony stood on the marketplace for half an hour and he was bored to death. Usually, even the aliens had some attractions on their markets, something to look at, but all these looked just the same and did literally nothing that was even remotely interesting. It was  _horrible_ . He shifted his weight on his feet, glaring up at the yellow sky and trying to suppress the shudders caused by the low temperature. He'd catch one hell of a cold if he was going to stand here all day.

 

Suddenly, there was a golden flash, like a lightning, just lasting longer. Squinting, the engineer looked away until the glow faded, and then, he turned his head again.

 

Where the beam had gone down, there were six people standing close together. The first one he noticed was wearing a ridiculous golden helmet with two large horns, and there was another one who had a silvery one with feathers. The other four had no helmets and – what probably stunned Tony most was that they all looked  _human_ . One of them was definitely some kind of Asian, the other looked like anyone who liked to eat a lot and frequently, two of them were blondes and there was a girl with them that would have made him whistle at any other occasion.

 

The one who creeped him out was Horny Helmet. Although he might have to pick another nickname because now, he pulled the piece of armour off, revealing short, black hair, and it just  _vanished_ into thin air with a golden flicker of light. He was staring right at Tony, his gaze not wavering once – not even when he said something to his companions, half turning, and then made his way towards the long line of slaves. The small blue hobbit aliens made way for him respectfully, making Tony wonder if he had a name here or if it was simply because he was about three feet taller than everyone of them.

 

He returned the stranger's gaze defiantly and tried to cross his arms in front of his chest. An annoyed huff escaped him when he remembered the shackles around his wrists that kept him from doing so and made the gesture more awkward than flippant. Horny Helmets seemed to understand its meaning though and there was a small, knowing smirk on his lips. Only when he came to a halt in front of Tony, he broke the eye contact to take his whole appearance in. Tony got hyper-aware of his plain grey clothing, his ruffled hair and his inability to speak. _And why the hell did he care?_

 

He heard one of the guards approach from behind at the sight of a possible customer. Before he got to say anything though, Horny Helmet demanded: “Why is he gagged?”

 

“He... has a sharp tongue, sir”, the alien answered hesitantly.

 

“So has my brother!”, one of the blondes, who had followed the black-haired, declared with a booming voice. Tony looked from him to the guy who was apparently his brother and thought _No way in hell_. Seriously. Blond hair – black hair. Blue eyes – green eyes. Not to mention the height difference, and he didn't even start to compare the calm, civilized voice of Horny Helmet with the one of Goldilocks. 

 

“I wish to have it removed”, Horny Helmet said. The other blonde, the one with the goatee (Tony dubbed him that, Goatee, it seemed fitting), bumped his shoulder and grinned suggestively. His voice was lascivious when he said: “My, my, Loki, he doesn't look like your usual taste. What is this all of sudden?”

 

Horny Helmet – ah, no, Loki – rolled his eyes as he replied: “It is not about his  _looks_ , Fandral.” 

 

“Now that's just insulting. I'm hurt”, Tony (whose gag had just come off) replied. He ran his tongue over his dry lips. “What is it then? Oh, wait, I know, it's got to be my aura. I was told I have one.”

 

“I think I liked him better when he was gagged”, the only woman in the group stated.

 

“Are your friends always this rude?” The engineer directed his question at Loki and raised his hands to his heart in mock-hurt. “I'm terribly offended.”

 

“Oh, they are a bunch of rude oafs”, came the light reply, followed by several shouts of outrage, including “Whose side are you on?!”, “Your little brother is absolutely insolent, Thor”, and “Oaf?! I'll teach you to call me an _oaf_!”. Loki ignored them all and asked, no, demanded: “What is this?” He was looking pointedly at Tony's chest. 

 

The engineer tensed. The fabric of his clothing was thick enough not to let the arc reactor's light shine through it, but there was nothing else the guy could be referring to. Keeping his tone light, he answered: “That? That's a shirt. See, for people who give a damn about modesty or decency and all that. Should be familiar to you, although you seem to be more into that whole fancy leather stuff, but –“

 

He stopped talking and his breath got caught in his throat when Loki grabbed his collar and  _ripped_ the shirt almost in half, exposing the reactor. He stepped back and seemed faintly amused when Tony staggered backwards, bringing some distance between them. Calmly he stated: “This is what I was talking about.”

 

The engineer took a deep breath to steady himself and sighed: “Jeez, give a guy a warning, would you?” He did, of course,  _not_ say  _I'm sorry for being jumpy, but I was kinda traumatized in these past few months and I'm uncomfortable with physical contact now which is ironic since I used to be a playboy_ , but something in Loki's eyes told him he didn't need to speak it out for him to know. It was unsettling, but anyway, he proceeded with his standard excuse when it came to the reactor: “It's normal where I come from. Like a battery of sorts, I'm –“

 

“Liar”, Loki interrupted calmly.

 

“Excuse me?”, Tony asked, silently panicking because _damn_ , he already knew this guy wasn't as easy to fool as the alien things he had encountered before. He might not be human, but he wasn't far from it either, and so he seemed to do a much better job at reading his features than a being from a different race could ever manage.

 

“You are lying.” Again, Loki stepped right into his personal space, and when Tony tried to back away, he felt his guard's hands on his arms restricting every movement. Gritting his teeth, he tried to hide the fear rising inside of him as the man leaned forward to trace a finger over the scar pattern. “This is nowhere near natural and these scars cannot be older than a year. So, what is it?”

 

“It's _mine_ and none of your business!”, the engineer snapped. “Would you _stop touching me_ now!” It wasn't a question, and Loki looked up at him rather surprised, as if he wasn't used to being spoken to in such a tone. Then, the surprise turned into a smirk as he stepped away – _finally_ – and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

 

“Well then”, he drawled, changing the topic suddenly, “what are your qualities as a slave?”

 

Tony grinned. Yes, this he could handle. Without missing a beat, he replied: “None.” He felt the guard tensing behind him, its nails (or claws) digging into the flesh of his arms it was still holding. Oh, was he ruining the sales pitch here? What a pity. “I can't cook, clean or do laundry, I've got a free will, I'm insolent and rude, have no manners and I wouldn't recognize the concept of respect if someone shoved it into my face.”

 

Confident that he wouldn't be sold today, he took in Loki's stunned expression. He mimicked it, though, when the guy suddenly started to  _grin_ and demanded: “Which price is set for him? I will pay any sum you want.” And, oh, he had lost track of the events here, what the hell was happening now?

 

“Um, sorry, but I'm not sure you listened to me. I'm the worst kind of slave you could ever have the misfortune to buy”, he pointed out. “I'm absolutely not worth your money.”

 

“He's right, Loki”, the woman stated. Horny Helmet (he was _not_ going to get rid of that nickname) turned around, grinning, and replied: “Oh, Sif, but I _like_ him.” He returned his gaze to his _object of interest._ “So, what is your name, slave?”

 

“First, nobody's slave”, he corrected. “Second, Tony.”

 

“Tony?”, his owner-to-be repeated. “Surely that is not all.” He didn't comment on the _nobody's slave-_ bit, but there had been an amused twitch to his lips when Tony had said it. He didn't like that at all.

 

“Yeah, maybe it's not”, the engineer agreed. “And maybe it's none of your business.” The next second, he felt something cold in his neck and tensed. It was a device he had had the pleasure of meeting with before, something similar to a shocker. A fucking strong one. “ _Anthony Edward Stark_ ”, he gritted out. “Better? Now take that fucking metal Pikachu away from my neck.” The last bit was addressed at his guard.

 

“Much better”, Loki confirmed with a small smirk. Smug bastard. “Well then, do me a favour and hand him over, would you?”, he asked the slave trader.

 

“Jesus”, Tony groaned. A _polite_ , smug bastard.

 

“No, it's Loki”, Horny Helmet corrected.

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock”, he muttered.

 

“ _Loki_ ”, Loki said, seeming a bit desperate, and the engineer couldn't help himself and laughed. This one was so going to give him back again. He gave him a week at most. If he could already drive him insane with harmless pop culture references...

 

“I got as much”, he replied, grinning. Pop culture references were lost in this part of the universe. What a shame. And Loki (/Sherlock/Horny Helmet/Jesus) gave him a look that said he wasn't all that sure about his sanity anymore. Or maybe he'd never been to begin with.

 

“I should warn you though”, the slave trader said reluctantly. “He is not easy to tame.”

 

“Tame”, Tony snorted, but was ignored by both the alien and Loki. Who was technically an alien too, but whatever.

 

He got that smug look again, making him look like he was five steps ahead of everyone else, and was smiling thinly as he replied: “I am a god and a prince of Asgard. I should be able to handle a creature like this, should I not?”

 

There were three things in that sentence that made Tony unsure if he should laugh, scowl or declare the guy as insane. Maybe a bit of everything. First –  _god_ . He needed a new word, something stronger than  _arrogant_ . That was one point for the declaring him as insane bit. Second – prince. Huh, he had never been sold in such high ranks before. Some kind of record.  _Hey, I've been the not-slave of a prince before._ One point for laughing. Third – creature.  _Creature_ ? That was far beyond insulting, that was degrading. Something that was bought and chained and trained and  _tamed_ . One point for scowling.

 

And apparently Asgard was a place people knew of, because suddenly the trader was far more friendly and kept doing little bows between his sentences while he negotiated a price with Loki. He started very high up, but Loki was  _good_ , had a way of gently intimidating his partner that Tony had used when he still had been in business. He really didn't want to like Loki, but he settled for acknowledging that he had a sharp tongue and he knew how to use it well.

 

Eventually, Loki handed over a small leather purse with clinking coins – very classic – and Tony wondered what was going to happen next. Usually the people came to the market with the sole purpose to buy a slave, but this had looked like a pretty spontaneous decision. Was he going to be dragged over the market for the next few hours? That would be the perfect chance to escape...

 

“I shall excuse myself then”, Loki said to his companions and gestured for Tony to come closer. “Forgive my rather quick retreat, but I think I have things to take care of.”

 

“Of course, Loki”, Fandral drawled, “go _take care_ of your _things_.”

 

“Shut up, would you”, Loki sighed and waved them off, turning towards Tony again and reaching for his cuffed wrists while the others strode off to take in what the market had to offer. The engineer tried not to flinch as his 'owner' (quotation marks!) took hold of them and then, suddenly, _ripped_ the chains apart. Literally. Tony jerked backwards with a startled yelp and stared at the... god(?) with wide eyes. Loki was apparently highly amused by that, judging by his shit-eating grin, and beckoned him closer again.

 

Too abashed to refuse, he complied and felt a hand closing around his upper arm. He was about to pose a question when the world around him blacked out and he felt like he was tossed and turned into all directions at once, stretched, compressed and –

 

– and then it was over and he stood in a wide hall which he couldn't quite take in right now because... “Jesus fuck, what the hell?” Tony pressed a hand to his mouth and continued speaking through his fingers, fast, hasty rambling that mostly served the point to distract himself from the gut-wrenching nausea. “I have no idea if you've ever dealt with a human before, but get used to fucking _warn_ me before you do...” With his free arm, he made a few random circular gestures through the room. “...do... do your thing. Whatever it is. Just... _ugh_ , I don't think you'd like me puking on your fancy golden floor, would you?” And Loki, Loki, that bastard, had the nerve to laugh at that. Not a chuckle, a snicker, no, but a full-out laugh like he was truly enjoying himself, and why would he, anyway? It wasn't like Tony had said anything funny. When he trusted himself not to throw up on the shiny floors anytime soon, the engineer took his hand down to cross his arms in front of his chest. A little sullenly, he demanded: “Yeah, and what was all that hilarious now? There was literally _nothing_ funny about what I said!” So he maybe sounded a little whiny, what about it? “I'm sorry, I don't seem to get your humour.”

 

Still grinning, the god straightened himself and replied: “Very few do. I apologize for the discomfort I caused you, it was not my intention. I promise to warn you the next time. But now, if you are able to stand, I would like you to follow me.” Loki turned around and started walking down the hallway. Tony was frozen on his spot. Just what the hell was that guy playing at? He had _apologized_ and yeah, he'd been laughing doing it, but he hadn't looked malicious or anything. And he had promised to warn him next time, like he... like he actually _cared_ for his comfort. “Anthony? Are you well?”

 

Tony winced as he was ripped from his thoughts. Loki had turned around when he had noticed that the engineer was not following him, but again, instead of a harsh 'Move, slave' or something similar, he had asked about his _wellbeing_. Just what the hell was wrong with the guy? Startled as he was, Tony didn't even think of a snappy reply when he answered, “Yeah, I'm fine”, and caught up with the god hurriedly, trying not to mind the pain flaring up in his still raw back as he moved. Loki didn't look convinced, but he continued to walk when Tony had caught up with him anyway.

 

It was really kind of unsettling that they had just kind of... teleported in here, because one, Tony didn't know which way the exit was, which made escaping a lot more complicated, and two, what happened to the laws of physics?! Although... if he was being traded back and forth as a slave among aliens, maybe he should finally give up his search for logic.

 

Loki pushed open a door (golden double doors, at that) and beckoned the engineer inside. Tony complied hesitantly, but the usual fear he felt when given to a new owner wasn't there. This god seemed... not hostile, not at all. He had actually been friendly so far and that was something he simply couldn't deal with. (And that was pathetic, because being afraid because someone was nice to him? That was ridiculous. What had he become?)

 

He stepped into something that seemed to be a living room, with couches and bookshelves and all that stuff. Most of the furniture was a rich, dark green, sometimes accented with gold, and all the wood used was dark and added to the combination. One large window let in light and the image of a large, golden city, and above that, _space_. Blackness, dotted with stars so bright Tony had never seen anything like it before.

 

“Impressive, isn't it?”, Loki asked, a smile on his face. Again, he seemed so sincere, so absolutely not evil, it was startling. He turned around to open another door, this one dark and plain, leading into another room. Turning around halfway, he made a vague gesture towards the engineer's tattered clothing. “Take those off, would you?”

 

Tony froze and felt the familiar anxiety churning in his stomach. Apparently he had been _very_ wrong about Loki's intentions.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Take those off, would you?”

 

The request was spoken with such casual nonchalance it took a moment for its meaning to sink in. Tony stood stock-still, frozen on his spot, and felt his eyes growing wide as his pulse quickened. Loki couldn't see it because he had already turned around and vanished into the other room. He hadn't expected that– not this _soon_ , at least – and Loki... fuck, he had absolutely fallen for the guy's lovely-sweet attitude, and he hadn't been prepared for this, not at all, and he didn't know what to do now, there was –

 

_Okay, Tony, stop this ridiculous fit and do something._

 

He looked around in the room, looking for an escape route. The doors he had entered through? No, too obvious, Loki would expect him to do that. Besides, this looked like a palace and as far as he knew from old Middle Age tales, there were going to be guards everywhere, so no option. He looked around in the large room ( _panic, panic, no, don't fucking panic, not now_ ) and saw two other doors, apart from the entrance and the one Loki had disappeared through. So, left or right? Right or left? It didn't matter, he just needed to get out –

 

“Anthony?” Tony whirled back around to Loki who was standing in the doorway to the other room and looked at the engineer's clothing with a 'why is that still there'expression. _Alright, Tony, don't panic, don't show him you're weak – you're not weak, this is just one out of many others, it's not like you haven't done this before. Everything's gonna be okay, so just keep up the act._ “Get rid of those, now.”

 

“You know what?”, Tony asked, hating how thin his voice sounded. “I don't think I'm gonna do that.” He took a small, careful step backwards. His heart was hammering in his chest and against the arc reactor. There was no way out, and _god damn it_ , why was this happening right now?!

 

“I think you should –“ Loki cut himself off mid-sentence and his eyes widened in something that looked like realization. “Gods, Anthony, _no_!”, he blurted out, raising his hands so Tony could see his palms, letting a bundle of cloth drop to the floor. “Did you think I was going to...” He shook his head and exhaled slowly before kneeling down and picking up the fabric he had dropped earlier. “Look, I can turn around, or if it makes you feel better, I will leave the room while you change. I just wanted to get you some proper clothing since...” He made a vague gesture towards Tony's tattered shirt and the plain, thin trousers.

 

The engineer exhaled slowly, uncertain if he could believe what he had just heard. Adrenalin and panic were still running through his veins. But Loki just stood there, holding out the clothes and making no move to rush him. His heartbeat slowed down and he breathed in deeply. If Loki had really not intended to... rape or hurt him or whatever, then that meant...

 

...that meant he had made a total fool of himself. During the first half hour of his stay here. Well, that was just _great_.

 

Flushed with embarrassment, he crossed the room and took the bundle of clothing from the god, keeping his eyes trained on the fabric instead of looking up.

 

“I will wait in the other room. Just tell me when you are ready”, Loki said and turned around, closing the door behind him. Tony exhaled shakily and took a few steps before slumping down into an armchair. Immediately, he cursed because of the pain flaring up in his raw back and sat up straighter, starting to examine the clothes: a dark green tunic, made of very soft material, and black leather pants. Apparently gods didn't have underwear, but he'd become accustomed to that by now.

 

Since delaying it wouldn't get him out of here, he pulled off his torn shirt, wincing as it scraped over the wounds, and slipped on the tunic. It was a bit too big (Loki was a bit taller than him after all), but that was alright since this way it didn't rub onto the lashes. The trousers fit almost perfectly, they were just a little too long. He could deal with that – more than just _deal with it_ , because Loki was pretty much the first one to actually give him clothing. His friendly behaviour was something (no matter how pathetic that sounded) Tony just wasn't used to anymore. And he was sure, _very_ sure, that there was something behind it he didn't even want to know about. For now... well, maybe he could appreciate it for now. It couldn't hurt after all, right?

 

He stared at his old clothes, unsure of what to do with them, and then settled for just laying them over his arm before calling out: “I'm... uh, done.” A few seconds later, the door of the room Loki had disappeared into opened up again and the god emerged, his expression set into a small smile. He extended a hand with a pointed look towards the discarded clothing in Tony's hands, and when the engineer had handed it over, Loki made a motion with his hand and it was... gone. “Huh. That's handy.”

 

The god smiled even wider and said: “It is, indeed. So, now you are properly dressed – or at least acceptable, we will, of course, need to get you some clothes of your own – I must introduce you to somebody.” Tony blinked, still trying to catch up with... everything. His own clothes? Loki was a little... too friendly for his taste. Or, at that, too friendly for his sense of caution. But he wasn't going to complain about that now, he had already showed too much weakness to this guy. So he just nodded and followed Loki as he left the room and led him down a golden hallway into another golden hallway which led into... another golden hallway. What was up with this place and all that gold? It was unnerving.

 

Finally, they stopped in front of another door and Loki knocked three times before folding his hands behind his back and waiting patiently. After about half a minute, one side of the large (and, surprise incoming, _golden_ ) double door opened and revealed a blonde woman whose face lit up as she spotted the god.

 

“Loki, my dear, what a surprise to see you. Were you not out with Thor and –“ Her gaze fell onto Tony, lingered on his face for a second and then dropped to the arc reactor. The engineer resisted the urge to cover it with a hand because the tunic didn't let it shine through, he had checked before. It didn't seem to bother the woman though, because she stared right at it (which was unnerving, because what was with these people and sensing his reactor?) before remembering her manners and looking up again. “I see you brought a guest”, she said after only a second's hesitation.

 

“I did”, Loki confirmed. “Mother, this is Anthony –“

 

“ _Tony_ ”, Tony cut in, but was ignored.

 

“-- Anthony, this is my mother, Frigga.”

 

“Um... hi?”, he said. _Very eloquent, Tony. Really, she's gonna be stunned by that display of brain capacity you just gave her._

 

If she was appalled by his lack of attitude, Frigga didn't let it show. Her answer was polite and her smile was... at least, _seemed_ sincere as she said: “Well then, Anthony, it is a pleasure to meet you. Why don't you two come in?” She opened the door a bit wider and Loki made a small gesture with his hand, motioning for Tony to go ahead. In lack of a better option, he complied and stepped into the large (and, not to forget that, of course fucking golden) living room. It was accented with lighter colours, but still mostly bright golden (it was starting to give Tony headaches). But well, Loki had referred to himself as a prince, and since Frigga seemed to be his mother, she obviously had to be the queen.

 

Tony Stark in the chambers of an alien queen. If that didn't sound crazy, he didn't know what did.

 

When they all had taken their seats on a ridiculously soft couch, she asked curiously: “How did you two meet?”

 

Loki cleared his throat and looked subdued, almost... ashamed?... as he answered: “Well, actually, I just... bought him.”

 

“You bought –“, Frigga began repeating as her eyes grew wide. Tony crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back. “Wait, is he a _slave_?” She sounded appalled, like that was the last thing she would have expected from her son.

 

“Let me _explain_ , mother”, the god insisted defensively. “This is not what you think it is, you know I would not do things like that.” Huh, this was getting more and more interesting. Apparently slavery wasn't all that common in this shiny golden... whatever it was. On the other hand, Loki's friends earlier hadn't seemed like they'd have an issue with their prince buying a slave, so perhaps it was just Frigga who disagreed? This promised to become really entertaining. “It was...” The god glanced sidewards at Tony. Apparently he hadn't planned to have this discussion in front of him (or at all). The inventor bit back his grin and leaned back, crossing his arms. “It was his energy”, Loki finally said defensively when he realized there was no help coming from Tony.

 

Frigga's eyes immediately fell to the height of the reactor again, but she corrected her mistake a second later as she said: “And you could not just ask him about it.”

 

“He wouldn't answer”, the god responded and looked more like a child being scolded every second. Well, it wasn't Tony's fault, Loki didn't _have_ to go all 'meet the mother' right away, right?

 

“So you _bought_ him”, the queen repeated slowly. For goodness' sake, weren't they over this already? She really seemed to hate slavery. Which was... kind of strange, seeing that she was an alien queen and probably got served by slaves all the time. (And what the hell had he become that he found people who didn't like slaves to be strange?)

 

“It was an impulsive decision”, Loki admitted and then added defiantly: “But I won't to give him back.”

 

“Yes”, Frigga sighed, “I thought so.” Then, she turned towards Tony. “Please forgive my manners, Loki merely... surprised me with his decision. Should we start over again?” Damn, she really looked too much like a mother, with that warm, soft smile and the distinct lack of... maliciousness he had been somewhat expecting. Again, it stunned him how easily he could be caught of guard with simple _friendliness_.

 

And somehow, for the first time in months, he didn't feel like answering snappily. Mostly, of course, because he had not been snapped at in the first place. So he replied, still with a bit of caution: “Yeah, why not. I'm Tony, nice to meet you.” And yes, this did make him feel silly, but hey, Fri– _this unknown person in front of him_ didn't seem to mind as she held out her hand. For a second, Tony hesitated, but then – alien space Vikings with remotely human traditions, why not give it a try? – he took the hand and leaned over to breathe a kiss onto the smooth skin.

 

Apparently, it wasn't the wrong thing to do, because when he retreated back into his former sitting position, he saw that she was smiling while replying: “I am Frigga, goddess of marriage and queen of Asgard. It is a pleasure to meet you, Anthony.” And he hadn't ever said Anthony, had he? Goddammit, Loki.

 

“The pleasure is all mine”, he replied as regal as he could manage and flashed her his most winning grin. This had started to spin out of control the moment Loki had exposed his reactor at the market and now he was here, chit-chatting with an alien queen in a golden castle. A golden cage. Well, if that wasn't fancy.

 

Frigga looked him up and down once and then turned towards Loki to announce: “I will have a tailor sent here immediately. He cannot keep wearing your clothes, love, they are far too large.”

 

“I would have taken care of that, mother”, the prince replied. “I am not as thoughtless as Thor.”

 

“Don't speak of your brother in such degrading tones”, the queen scolded (not actually looking very scolding because she had an amused twitch to her lips that showed that she maybe, maybe didn't even disagree with her son that much). “But since we are already here, we can take care of it now as well, can we not?”

 

Tony bit his tongue to hold back any comments he might have said out loud otherwise. Really? Clothes? Just how long did Loki think he was going to manage keeping him? He would give him back sooner or later, or maybe Tony would finally escape for good like he had tried so many times before. But well, if he could escape in neatly tailored (fancy alien leather) clothes, all the better, right? This actually looked like the most comfortable place he had ever been sold to – but no, wrong train of thoughts. Those places looking flawless were the ones with the dirtiest background.

 

Just a few seconds after Frigga had rung a small bell, a girl entered the chamber and performed a curtsey (aw, how cute. Good old Middle Age) before asking: “How may I be of service?”

 

“Annia, dear, please call in a tailor, would you? We need to have some garments crafted as soon as possible.” Jesus Christ, she was even polite to her servants. She was really a package of motherly love. Heavens save him.

 

“Of course, your highness”, the girl said, curtseyed again and left.

 

After that, Loki and Frigga began talking about elves and their fabulous tailoring, the conversation quickly wandering off to more abstract topics and Tony stopped listening, leaning back into the soft cushions and turning thoughts over and over in his head. Tony Stark was not an obtuse man, no, he was the farthest possible from that. But still, he couldn't help but wonder a third, or fourth, or possibly thousandth time about how this was so definitely not what he had been expecting. It was almost... nice, in a strange kind of way, and so far everyone here had been friendly. It was _scary_ , because he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop and he sure as hell was not going to fall for every friendly facade presented to him. He was a lot of things, but an idiot was not one of them.

 

When the door to the chamber opened up again, Tony snapped out of his thoughts, sat up straighter and eyed the maiden and the man who had come with her, apparently the tailor, warily. Frigga greeted them warmly and then addressed him: “Anthony, come here, please.” Wait a second. Tailor. They would take his measures. He hadn't even thought about that. That meant – _fuck_! He clenched his fists and frantically searched for a way out, but the only thing his mind supplied him with was a constant string of _fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm so screwed, fuck_... Yeah, thank you, not helping. “Anthony?”

 

He'd had worse. He would survive this. He had survived everything before this, so why make a fuss? He could do this. He could, he had to, because there was no choice but surviving. He had to stand this through, giving up was not an option. The person breaking Tony Stark had yet to be born.

 

With those thoughts in mind, he rose from the couch and stepped towards the two servants waiting for him, trying to suppress the shaking of his hands. He could do this. Nothing was going to happen. The tailor looked him up and down and then told him to take off the tunic. It sounded distant through the noise of blood rushing in his ears. As calm as he could manage, mindful of Frigga's and Loki's eyes on his back, he gripped the rims of the dark green fabric and pulled it over his head, wincing as it scraped over the lashes on his skin.

 

There were two sharp intakes of breath from behind him and then, he heard a rustle of fabric as Loki demanded: “What is _that_?” The next second, he was spun around with a firm hand on his shoulder and met the god's bright green eyes that were wide with... was that shock or anger?

 

Trying not to flinch away from the touch, he smiled as casually and flippantly as he could (he was sure it turned out to be a grimace) while replying: “Told you I'm not a good slave.”

 

Loki just stared at him, apparently stunned to silence, and then turned him around again so Tony faced the two servants again. He quirked his lips in what was the equivalent to a shrug without moving his body while the prince said behind him: “Mother, please, I need your assistance.”

 

“Of course, my dear.” Another rustle of fabric, then he winced as one of the wounds was very lightly traced with a finger. “Please stay still, Anthony.”

 

And that was so easy to ask for but seriously, it wasn't easy to do, like, at all, because Tony had no idea what was coming and there were people at his back who he couldn't see and they were seeing his scars, the proves of his failed escapes and pointless resistance, and the two morons in front of him were staring at the reactor and Frigga was fucking asking him to _please stay still_? He was _panicking_ , okay? He had every right to do so because they were touching wounds that were not even healed yet and it was going to hurt and –

 

It didn't hurt. Tony blinked as he felt the strange tingle in his back, unlike anything he had ever felt before. But it was... good, somehow. Not hurting. Pleasant. And the burning, the pain of the lashes began to subside. It didn't even take one minute until it was over, but it was easily the best thing he had felt in months.

 

When it was gone, Loki turned him back around with his hands on Tony's shoulders (the inventor tensed at the touch, but it seemed to go unnoticed) and looked him up and down critically. It made Tony feel vulnerable and exposed in all the ways he didn't want to be, but the god didn't dwell on his obvious discomfort and asked instead: “Is there anything else I should know?”

 

_There is nothing at all about me that you have any right to know_ , was Tony's first thought to that, but maybe he should really not stretch his luck too far right now, so he just answered: “No, I'm fine. Uh... Thanks, I guess.”

 

“You could have just _told_ me”, the prince said, and suddenly he had a reproachful look in his eyes, like Tony had made him feel terrible with not telling him about his well-being. Which... which was ridiculous, because come on, he was a fucking slave, held against his will for months on end without any realistic hope to get back a normal life anytime soon or _ever_. So yeah, sorry not sorry. He had no obligation to care about somebody but himself, especially if that somebody had bought him and was responsible for him continuing to live as a slave.

 

“I said I'm _fine_ ”, he snapped sharply and jerked away from Loki's hands, _what right had he to touch him_ , took a step back and glared at him. Loki looked surprised, taken aback, but Tony really didn't want to care about that and he didn't even want to _look_ at Frigga who had met him with all her motherly loveliness so far. Fuck, why was it so much more difficult to snap at somebody when it felt like that person cared about you? 

 

But it only  _felt_ like it, she didn't really care. He knew that. 

 

Tony managed to stay calm as the tailor took his measurements, and he even ignored the curious glances of  _every fucking person in the room_ that were thrown at the reactor in his chest. Nobody talked much, aside from a few questions about if he had any special wishes for the garments (he said he wanted something covering the reactor, because seriously, this staring was unnerving). 

 

When the servants were gone, Frigga ordered her maiden to bring some food. It was served almost immediately and after his initial hesitance, Tony dug in enthusiastically. In the past few months, he had lived from scraps, the traders' tasteless mash or nothing at all. Now, he had something that actually seemed like food, soft bread and a wide variety of toppings, and it lifted his mood immensely, although he tried not to show it too much. The two gods noticed anyway and smiled more in return.

 

After that, Loki excused them and led Tony back to his chambers – scratch that, his  _wing_ of the damn castle to show Tony – 

 

“Wait a second, I get my own room?!”, the engineer asked incredulously. “Are you serious?”

 

“Where else would you sleep?”, Loki replied as if it was completely self-evidently. Like it was totally normal to give your slave a room. Yup. That's Loki for you, apparently. Because the guy didn't really seem to care about what was _normal_ or _socially established_ or something. Must be a prince thing.

 

“...Just forget that I asked, 'kay?”, Tony muttered. “I'll just... whatever.” He was tired. It was barely past midday, but this day was easily the most eventful (he refrained from calling torture and whatever else had been filling his time the past few months events right now) since a long time.

 

“There are some books in the chamber, I am afraid I will have to leave you for the time being. I have duties to attend to”, the god said apologetically as he opened a door (golden, who's surprised?) and revealed a room that wasn't half as large as Loki's own, but still large enough for a bed, a couch and a desk, a bookshelf that was barely filled yet and two armchairs without looking even remotely crowded. A large window let in sunlight. It was far, far more than Tony had been expecting.

 

“No problem, I'll keep myself busy”, he replied. _Thank you_ was lingering on his tongue, but he didn't speak it out. He had no reason to be grateful. He was a slave, after all.

 

“Very good. I will be back soon”, Loki answered with a smile that actually looked sincere, then he closed the door behind himself and left Tony alone.

 

For a second, he considered exploring the room and see what was behind the second door, but then he decided otherwise and flopped down onto the incredibly soft bed and was asleep in an instant.

 

~*~

 

When he woke up again, it was dark outside. The golden gleam of the city had receded to a faint glow and the black sky was filled with so many stars that Tony just stared at them for a few minutes before he slowly sat up. He had no idea of the time (how was time even measured here?), but apparently, it was too late for anyone to be still up as everything was eerily quiet.

 

A thought occurred to him, fleeting, but full of hope. Quietly he strolled towards the door, looking around as if someone could be watching him, took a deep breath and pushed the handle. He felt a faint laugh escape him.  _Loki had left open the door_ . What an utter idiot.

 

Grinning, Tony slipped out of the door, closing it behind himself softly, and hurried down the wide hallway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right... Loki is not evil - check. Meet the mother - check. (I was stuck like forever with the Frigga dialogue x.x) New clothes incoming - check. Healing magic - check.
> 
> Hey guys, guess who's in trouble next chapter?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's plan of escape is, of course, thwarted. Come on, what did you expect?

The door closed behind him with a soft clicking noise and Tony looked the hallway up and down once. To his right were Loki's rooms, but he had to go in that direction in order to leave Loki's wing of the castle because he had honestly no idea where he would get if he turned right. It was unlikely that the god would hear him anyway, since it wasn't exactly daytime and he didn't plan on stomping by.

 

Quietly, he sneaked past the door that was only a few steps away from his own. His heart was hammering in his chest and against his arc reactor, but the door didn't suddenly burst open to reveal a screaming and raging Loki. With a sigh of relief, he went a little faster until he reached another door. Pushing at it with his full weight, he shoved it open wide enough to slip through.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

The inventor winced at the foreign voice and whirled around, exhaling as he spotted a guard beside the door. Clearing his throat, he answered: “Loki sent me to... get something for him.”

 

“In the middle of the night?”, the guardian asked.

 

Tony decided to dare challenging the guy instead of scrambling for excuses and retorted: “Who are you to question your prince's choices?”

 

That seemed to be enough of an argument because after a short hesitation, the guard nodded and waved for him to go on. Trying not to show his relief too openly, Tony nodded and walked into a random corridor, acting as determined as he could. This couldn't be too hard, right? There had to be an exit somewhere. Probably even several, so he was going to find some way out.

 

Half an hour later, he wasn't all that sure about that anymore. He was pretty sure he had seen the hallway he was in now at least twice before, although it could be a completely different one, too, because _everything looked the fucking same_ here. Also, he kept meeting squads of guards patrolling the castle which gave him a shot of adrenalin every time. He was certain that his poor old heart wouldn't stand this much longer.

 

The sound of heavy boots alerted him of another patrol coming his way and he quickly cast his eyes downwards as he moved closer to a wall. Only seconds later, a group of four guards rounded the corner, all in matching step and with clattering (golden) armour. Tony glanced up between the unruly bangs of hair hanging into his face and saw one of the men staring at him, then turning to say something to one of his comrades. The engineer passed the group, catching hushed whispers exchanged (“Isn't that the prince's new slave?” – “What is he doing here?” – “Look at his clothing!”) and was now with his back to them as he heard their steps come to a halt.

 

“Hey.” _Fuck_. He picked up his pace, just as his heart rate did, and acted like he didn't heard them or didn't know it was directed at him or whatever. “You. Slave.” _Shit, shit, shit..._

 

Tony turned around to face the group. “Yeah?”

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Oh, how much he hated this question. As confident as he could, he replied: “I don't believe that's any of your business, is it?”

 

One of the guards took a threatening step towards him. He was still a few metres away, but the gesture was clear and quickly underlined by his words: “You are not in a position to contradict me, _slave_.” Fucking great. “Where is it that you're heading?”

 

“I'm, uh... searching for the... kitchen”, the inventor lied.

 

“The _kitchen_ ”, the guard repeated with a slightly mocking tone. “And because of that you bypassed us three times already?”

 

Alright, he was in _big_ trouble. “Yeah, I'm... kinda new here. And... lost. So I think I'll get...” He made a vague gesture towards somewhere behind him. “...going. Have a nice day, bye!” Tony spun on his heel and ran down the corridor. He heard the guards shouting and starting to run behind him, but he had started way earlier and they were wearing heavy armour that would slow them down.

 

Or so he thought.

 

In fact, he was wheezing for air only a minute later and they were getting closer, seemingly not affected by the weight of the metal on their bodies. Goddamn gods. The sheer panic kept Tony going for another minute, but then, he was grabbed from behind and pulled backwards. He thrashed out, cursing and spitting insults, but the only thing he got was an elbow that hurt like hell from where it had hit metal and a sneer from the guard who twisted one of his arms behind his back and held the other in a tight,, maybe even bruising grip. Tony cringed and then had to suppress a pained groan as the casing of the arc reactor shifted in his chest, feeling like it ripped something important in there. It caused him to give up most of his resistance to focus on breathing, breathing without screaming in pain (because that would hurt even more). He heard the voices of the guards only distantly, the pounding of his blood in his ears drowning out almost every other sound.

 

“...bring him to the prince.”

 

“...going to punish him?... hates when ... breaking … he set.”

 

“So he … that strict with … ?”

 

 _You're so goddamn screwed._ Slowly, the pain radiating from the reactor began to recede and Tony began to walk rather than let himself be pushed forward. His vision cleared again and he looked around, frantically searching for a way to escape the punishment that was inevitably going to follow. There had to be a way out, even when he was surrounded by gods and his arm was still twisted behind his back and his lung volume was limited by the arc reactor and – yeah, actually, screw that. He was trapped, and the door to Loki's chambers was right in front of him.

 

The guard holding him forced him down onto his knee while pulling his arm even further upwards. Tony groaned in pain and heard the dull sound of someone knocking at the door, followed by a few beats of silence until it was opened and bare, white feet stepped into view. He kept his gaze fixed on the toes in front of him instead of looking up.

 

“What do you think you are doing?” Loki's voice cut through the air sharper than a knife and the inventor felt the panic well up inside of him even stronger. He hadn't got the faintest interest in learning what the god was capable of, but it seemed like he was about to do it anyway.

 

“He tried to escape”, one of the guards explained.

 

“I see that”, the prince replied, obviously annoyed. “There is still no need to break his arm, or does he look like a threat to you?” There was a muttered answer and then, the painful grip on Tony's arm was suddenly released. It caused him to lose his balance and he fell forward. Out of a reflex, he used both arms to steady himself and cursed when his strained shoulder flared up in pain at the weight. “Anthony, come in.” He gritted his teeth and took a breath as deep as possible without hurting himself, still staring at the marble floor. “I am not going to ask you twice”, Loki said icily and dangerously low.

 

Biting his lip, Tony got to his feet and complied, stepping into the room and continuing to muster the floor. He heard Loki send away the guards, then the sound of the door closing, and after that the god's sharp hiss: “What was _that_ just now?”

 

Tony swallowed and crossed his arms in front of his chest in a gesture that should signal defiance, but was actually meant to protect his arc reactor while Loki stepped around to look at him. He could be an actor if he wanted. As insolently as he managed, he replied: “I think that was obvious, wasn't it?”

 

“Yes, very much so. I am asking you _why_.” Loki's tone seemed sharp enough to cut through bones. “Have you _any_ idea how actions like these are punished in Asgard?”

 

He took a step towards Tony and the engineer flinched backwards, but still kept his voice snappy as he shot back: “Well, I didn't exactly _choose_ to come here!” The god came another step nearer and Tony retreated again, his back hitting the door now. It caused another surge of panic as he saw the anger on Loki's features.

 

“I don't think you get my point”, he snapped. “As a prince of Asgard I will – ” He raised a hand and Tony stopped listening as he pushed himself backwards, flush against the door, and raised an arm over his head to protect himself, the other one covering his arc reactor, as he blurted out: “ _Don't_ touch me!” There were a few beats of silence in which the engineer had his jaw clenched so hard it hurt and his eyes squeezed shut as he waited for a blow to hit.

 

“Anthony”, Loki said quietly. If anything, Tony only tensed more. “ _Anthony._ ” Every bite was gone from his words. “Look at me.” Some of the tension left the inventor's body, but it was immediately back when he felt a hand around his wrist. He jerked it away and his head snapped up with a sharp intake of air. He met Loki's green eyes, bright in the dark, but they were not narrowed in anger like just a minute before. No, they were wide and... yes, what exactly? There was something in them that Tony couldn't quite read. “Relax.”

 

The engineer snorted and shot a pointed look to his wrist held by Loki before he replied: “Yeah, because that makes me feel _so_ relaxed.”

 

To his surprise, Loki let go immediately and took a step back, raising his hands like he was admitting defeat, although his tone was dead serious: “Whatever you do, Anthony, I am _never_ going to harm you, starve you, ... _rape_ you or use any of the torture methods your former owners seemed to favour.” Tony stared at him with wide eyes. He definitely hadn't seen that coming, and normally he would have taken it as another farce, pulled to hit him with the truth unprepared later, but the sheer disgust in Loki's voice as he talked about what had happened in these past few months (and it was shockingly accurate, although he'd never admit that) made this one sentence so far more believable than it should be. “Do you understand?” Slowly, he nodded and hesitantly lowered the arm that had been draped over his arc reactor. Loki smiled, actually smiled, and it was only when he relaxed Tony noticed that he had been tense, too. “Then let me _explain_.”

 

The god sighed and smoothed his hair back while staring off into nothingness before he spoke up again: “Here in Asgard, our traditions and customs are very... fixated, you could say. I already act against many of them by using magic and, usually, slaves defying the will of their masters are severely punished – which I am _not_ going to do”, he assured hastily at seeing how Tony instinctively tried to merge into the door at the sound of the words. “But the court is full of chattering mouths and word about this will spread, be sure of it. It is not going to be fortunate for my reputation because as a prince of this realm, I am usually expected to honour our traditions with eagerness. Of course”, he added with a grimace, “no one is actually asking if I see them fit, but complaining will get me nowhere. Just, Anthony, _never_ do something like that again, do you understand?” Tony nodded slowly, not sure himself if he meant it or not, and Loki smiled. “Then come now.”

 

He ushered the engineer aside and opened the door again, stepping out into the hallway and motioning for Tony to go ahead. He didn't resist, because he was tired and confused and really just wanted to sleep now. Everything else could wait until it was morning.

 

Tony laid down on the bed (on his back, because everything else hurt the reactor) without waiting for Loki to leave again. He tugged the blankets up to his chin and was almost asleep in a matter of seconds.

 

He was so exhausted that the hand softly threading to his hair didn't even startle him anymore. Neither did the whispered words that he wasn't even sure he really heard: “Oh Anthony, what did they do to you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, a short one, I'm sorry ^^ But it kinda didn't want to be any longer. My stories keep developing their own will.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki leaves cute notes, Tony meets people and flirts. And he's going to learn how to ride - whether he wants to or not.

The sunlight woke him, falling in from the large window on one side of the room. Tony laid on his back while he slowly returned to consciousness, blinking and taking in his surroundings. He felt well-rested, which was the first thing to surprise him. The second was the fact that he awoke peacefully, with neither a nightmare nor an owner to wake him. Then, he noticed that he was laying in a bed, like, a real, comfortable bed, and that brought back the memories of Loki.

 

“Shit”, he muttered and nearly face-palmed as he remembered his badly planned escape attempt and the conversation afterwards. _Whatever you do, Anthony, I am never going to harm you, starve you, ...rape you or use any of the torture methods your former owners seemed to favour. Do you understand?_ Yes, he did, and no, he didn't. He understood the words, but still, a part of him refused to believe them, refused to put that much trust in a man he barely knew for a day. 

 

Slowly, Tony sat up. He was still in the clothes the god had given him (sleeping naked had been a habit before he had been abducted, but his time as a slave had taught him to see it as a vulnerability and promise or not, he was not going to undress in front of Loki). When he reluctantly left the bed, he spotted a stack of clothing, sitting neatly folded on a chair beside him. On top of it laid a small note which he picked up to read the curvy, small handwriting.

 

_Good morning,_

_I am afraid I have duties to attend to and since you slept so peacefully, I decided not to wake you. You looked like you needed it._ (What was that supposed to mean now?)  _If you have not noticed before, the door on the right wall leads to your bathroom. When you are ready, there is someone waiting outside the chamber to guide you to the kitchen so you may have your first meal. I am sure they will find something to pass your time afterwards_ (so he was going to do some work after all, but helping in a kitchen was the most harmless task he had gotten in months) _until I come for you._

_Best regards,_

_Loki_

 

Well, that wasn't half as bad as he had expected. No gruesome punishments, not even some scolding words. Just 'go get your breakfast and then make yourself useful'. He could deal with that. Slinging the clothes over his arm, he entered the bathroom and stopped in his tracks for a second to gape.

 

When he opened the door, he was greeted by the quiet murmur of running water. It came from a small quell that was probably the equivalent of a sink, judging by its height and form. Beside that, there was a toilet, water constantly flowing through it, too. What caught his eye though was the bathtub embedded in the marble floor, accentuated with gold (look who's surprised) and big enough for Tony to fit in twice. Outstretched, that is. One of the walls was a floor-to-ceiling mirror and everything else was held in black and white marble tones. All in all, it looked better than some hotel bathrooms he had seen, and Tony had a damn good taste when it came to hotels.

 

And he was a _slave_.

 

Shaking off his thoughts, he dropped the clothing on the floor and walked over to the tub, just to find out there were no control panels on it or anything else he could use to fill it. After circling it twice without any results, he gave up and washed himself with the lukewarm water in the sink as good as possible, shedding Loki's clothing and, after a short hesitance, folded it to take it out with him later. Then, he slipped into his own trousers (black, incredibly soft leather with laces to tie it at the front) and reached for the tunic as he caught sight of himself in the mirror wall.

 

Loki had been right: He had needed the sleep desperately. Even now, there were shadows under his eyes and his gaze was more resenting and closed up than he had ever seen himself. There was a scar on his cheek, starting at the cheekbone and running down until it almost reached his upper lip. His torso was marred with scars, beginning with the ones around the arc reactor and then some others, thin white lines left by whips, knifes or, in the more specific cases, claws.

 

He was about to pull the tunic over his head when he stopped again, frowning. Stepping closer to the glass, he took a closer look and spotted small, barely visible black lines originating from the reactor. They were thin, but not thin enough to pretend they weren't there at all. He traced one of them with a finger until he couldn't make it out anymore, then dipped a had into the water of the sink to rub it over his skin, clinging to the fragile hope that the lines would just go away. Of course, they didn't.

 

“Well, can't help that now”, he muttered and pulled the tunic on. It was a dark red, not like Thor's cape, but fuller, richer, like wine. It covered the worrying lines and made it easier not to think about them now, although Tony was actually very aware of the problem. _Palladium_. Of course, Palladium didn't go well with his body, it was poisonous after all. But up until now, he had been able to ignore it because there were always more pressing problems at hand. But now? The thing keeping him alive was poisoning him, and he was sure it wouldn't stop at some black lines. It was dangerous, that much was sure. But even if he found an element that could possibly replace the Palladium, he had no way of building it into the reactor and developing anything here. He was well and truly trapped.

 

Even with the reactor covered, he still couldn't keep his mind from wandering there. In some way, he had missed that, a problem he had to solve with science and not reckless escape plans. It felt good to have something to busy his mind with. On his way out he looked over to the chair on which sat two more tunics and trousers – enough to wear for quite some while, and that literally over night – and he spotted a pair of boots he hadn't even noticed before. Surprised, he picked them up – they were made of soft, black leather and cut high enough to cover half of his shins, with straps and buckles to lace them with. Careful, still somewhat disbelieving, he pulled them on and noticed they were fitting perfectly, too. Loki had taken care of everything, and Tony couldn't help but dread the price he would demand for his generosity.

 

When he opened the door that led out to the hallway, he almost stumbled over a boy sitting on the floor. The kid scrambled to his feet hastily, hiding a book he had been reading behind his back with an expression like someone had just caught him peeping in the girls' bath.

 

“What's up?”, Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. “You not allowed to read here?”

 

“We, uh... we are”, the boy stuttered. “But it is, uh, considered... not... appropriate for a warrior.”

 

With an amused smirk, the inventor looked the boy up and down. He wasn't exactly scrawny, no, actually he was pretty well-built, but he lacked the proud stance of a fighter. On top of that, he didn't look much older than seventeen. Mouthing the obvious question, he asked: “A warrior? How old are you, exactly?”

 

“Barely over the three-hundreds”, the boy replied with a sheepish smile. “But one day, I will become a great fighter.”

 

Tony felt his jaw drop. “Uh, sorry, I just... could... could you repeat that last bit?”

 

“I said I will be a –“

 

“No, before that. How old are you again?”

 

The boy's face lit up. “Ah. I am three hundred and fourteen years old. But many people tell me I already look much older.” He grinned proudly. “And you? How old are you? You must be at least three thousand years old! Were you born as a slave or have you been a warrior before? Did the scar –”

 

“I'm thirty-nine”, Tony interrupted the boy. “And I've been born free, and I'll be free again, and no, I really don't need your opinion on that, so where's the kitchen?”

 

The boy gaped at him. “Thirty–“, he began, but Tony cut him off: “Shush, no talking. Food first, then discussions.” _Which is absolutely not because I'm currently trying to comprehend that you're three hundred and still look like a teen. Nope._ The kid – well, sort of – nodded slowly and turned to lead. Unfortunately, he didn't stay still for long. “Then, what name do you go by?”

 

“Tony”, the inventor replied, at least trying not to sound annoyed.

 

“Tony?”, his companion repeated and Tony groaned.

 

“Alright, _Anthony_ , for heaven's sake! What's up with you guys and nicknames? Whatever. What's your name?”

 

“I am Finnobarr”, he replied with a wide smile.

 

“...Yeah. I think I'll go by Finny, but thank you”, Tony muttered.

 

Finny stopped dead in his tracks and repeated: “ _Finny_? You cannot do that!” Jeez, the poor kid really looked appalled.

 

“I think I can. Watch me”, the engineer responded drily and set to move again, but a surprisingly fierce grip on his arm stopped him. “You guys have really serious issues about your names, you know that?”, he sighed, slowly feeling really annoyed.

 

“You have _no right_ to degrade my name like that!”, Finny snapped and his grip tightened, suddenly becoming very uncomfortable. Where was the overly excited, smiling-sparkly 300-years-old teen from just three seconds ago?

 

Tony stayed calm anyway as he raised an eyebrow and asked: “Ah, and why is that?”

 

“Because no matter how low _I_ stand as an Asgardian”, the boy hissed, “you, as a slave, will _always_ be beneath me.”

 

Okay, not sympathetic. Jerking his arm backwards – and failing to free himself because Finny was surprisingly strong – Tony shot back: “I don't think someone living in a culture not even advanced enough to disestablish slavery can tell my about _my_ worth, and now get your fucking fingers off me!”

 

“You have the audacity –“

 

“No, _you_ have the audacity to threaten your prince's personal slave!”, Tony interrupted and had to suppress a grin at the way Finny flinched. That had been a risky part to play and maybe it would bring him into trouble later, but apparently it worked because the boy reluctantly stepped back, his jaw and fists clenched. “I think there's some kitchen you wanted to show me?”

 

Finny turned away without dignifying that with an answer, but at least he started walking again, not looking if Tony would follow him, and that gave the engineer the privacy to let his shoulders slump in relief. This had been close to turn really nasty, and he really didn't want to bring himself into trouble on day two with Loki. Even if he had acted friendly so far, there was something about him that made the inventor doubt his flawless, civil facade, for example his short outburst the night before. Yes, he had calmed down pretty fast when he had noticed that Tony was straight-out scared, but he didn't seem like a person who took it well if their rules were disobeyed. He had been mild this time, but although Tony had sworn himself to never let any of his captors subjugate him, the thought of going against Loki made his skin crawl.

 

Before his thoughts could begin to move in circles, Finny pushed open a door and a wave of different smells rushed over them with a gush of warm air. The engineer's stomach took that as a clue to remind him that his last meal had been on the midday of day one, meaning yesterday, and he had skipped out dinner because he had been passed out cold on that gloriously fluffy bed (maybe it just seemed overly comfortable to him because he hadn't slept on a bed for months, but who was he to complain?). The sleep, uninterrupted by nightmares this time, had done him good, but now? Yes, he was hungry.

 

An elderly woman in a plain dress rushed towards them and greets: “Finnobarr!” She was actually using that full ridiculous name. “There you are. Abigael requires your assistance with the boar over there, go give her a hand.” Then she addressed Tony who was still gaping at the kitchen – that was not anywhere near the right word to describe this. It was a damn _hall_ with stoves and tables with people working on them, on all kinds of different food – bread, meat, vegetables, something that could be jam or marmalade, a girl was pressing out fruits to get their juices, and all of that was coated in a heavy steam, rising up from the various stoves and whatever else there was in this room. It carried a smell that made Tony's stomach growl and made him grateful for the busy noises everywhere that he hoped would keep people from hearing him. “You must be the prince's new slave”, she stated and gave him a once-over. “Norns, where did he _get_ you from?” What was that supposed to mean now? “You look like you have not eaten properly in months. Come with me, boy.”

 

Well, she had probably no idea how right she was, the inventor thought bitterly. And _boy_? Really? At least she didn't take him for four thousand years or something. Apparently, the women on this planet had a serious issue with being overly motherly, because Tony didn't think he looked _that_ helpless.

 

“Here, sit down”, she said, pushing him down onto a wooden bench on one of the long tables in the middle of the room, right next to a gorgeous blonde kneading a ball of dough in her slender hands. Slender hands, but undoubtedly powerful. She glanced up at him and smiled. Tony gave her his brightest smile in return and winked which made her blush and look at the dough again. So even if he was skinny and much paler than he was used to, he apparently hadn't lost his touch. Very nice.

 

Not even a minute later, the woman who had led him inside was back with a big bowl of something that looked like porridge with various berries, but smelled much better, and handed him a wooden spoon with a smile while she encouraged him: “Eat, you really need to gain some weight. I will be sure to feed you properly.” She winked like they had just exchanged a secret. “I am Marianne, by the way.”

 

“Anthony”, he replied (because he was stubborn, not stupid), taking her hand and breathing a kiss onto it. “It is a pleasure to make you r acquaintance.” And if this behaviour made him feel like he was stuck in a Middle Age role play, well, it didn't matter, did it? Better than some crazy sadistic alien overlords.

 

Marianne snickered and commented: “Oh, a flatterer. I can see why Loki likes you.”

 

“I'm not flattering, only telling the truth”, Tony replied smoothly. It felt good to have some normal conversation again, teasing, flirting, even if it was with an old woman. It made him feel more like himself again.

 

She laughed quietly and then changed the topic: “When does the prince require your presence?”

 

The inventor shrugged as he answered: “Loki's up to some princely duties, I think. He left me a note that I should eat something and then make myself useful until he comes to pick me up.”

 

Marianne looked thoughtful for a moment and then said: “Yes, I believe there was a council morning set for this morning.” And that sounded so boring Tony was really happy that the prince hadn't made him tag along or something. “We can always use a helping hand down here. But eat first.”

 

And that Tony did; the porridge-like purée tasted wonderful, slightly sweet because of the berries and very sating. After he had had breakfast, Marianne brought him flour and some pastry to roll out, the girl beside him wrapping different fruits in it when he passed it to her afterwards, and although Tony was clearly not a cook, it felt good to use his hands for something (he was sure he was on that several hours and it proved to be more exhausting than he would have suspected). The blonde who he worked in accord with, it turned out she was called Brenda, had a really nice way of batting her eyelashes (that or Tony was just desperate) and was easy to flatter, responding to the easiest ways of flirting.

 

By the time Loki showed up, there were two other girls sitting opposite from him at the table and the engineer had the best time in months. Not all of them were as easy to flatter as Brenda, and one brown-haired was a seriously tough nut to crack. So yes, Tony was having fun when Marianne tapped him on the shoulder and told him that Loki was waiting outside. Of course, he wouldn't step into the kitchen himself. Prince and everything.

 

“Well then, ladies, it's been fun”, he said while standing up from the bench and then giving a small bow in front of the three girls still sitting at the table. They snickered and then Tony was on his way to the double doors (we really don't need to point out that they were golden, do we?) that led out into the hallway and pushed at one of them, leaning against it with his full weight to open it. When it was wide enough for him to slip through, he turned around once again because in his peripheral vision, he saw Finnobarr walking by with a basked of steaming something and he, being Tony Stark, couldn't leave this at what it was and waved at the boy, beaming, as he called over: “See you soon, Finny!” Then, he slipped out of the door and pressed his back against it to close it, fast, but not too fast to hear the “Oh, you little...!” from the other side. _Worth it_ , he thought with a grin.

 

“And what was that about now?”, Loki asked from the other side of the corridor where he was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, an amused quirk to his lips. Ah yes, that guy was still there. He certainly didn't look pissed, but Tony wasn't sure how well he'd take it when he told him that he was making fun of Asgardian name traditions and stuff.

 

“Just a little bickering”, he replied and was surprised by his own good mood. But this morning _had_ been good and he wasn't going to purposefully destroy his cheerfulness. No need to _make_ himself depressed, after all.

 

“White does certainly look good on you”, the god commented drily and looked him up and down once.

 

“White?”, Tony repeated. “What are you – oh.” He looked at his tunic and noticed it was coated in flour, almost hiding the ruby colour. Wait. _Shit_. Loki had given him clothes and he'd soiled them not even halfway through the first day, this was so fucking bad... “Sorry”, he muttered nervously and then immediately scolded himself. _You are not going to go and apologize, you're_ not a slave _, don't you dare forget it!_

 

“There is no need for that”, Loki just replied, still smiling. Apparently, the council meeting hadn't been that bad if it had put him into such a good mood. “We can go so you can get changed, and then I would like to show you something.” The engineer exhaled slowly and nodded, uncertain if the proposal should make him feel excited or nervous. He settled for a bit of both – he really didn't know what to make of Loki so far. When the god started walking, he hurried to keep up and tried to dust some of the flour off his tunic inconspicuously, but only ended up producing a cloud around himself and muttered quiet curses under his breath. If the prince noticed, he didn't comment on it but asked instead: “Is the room to your liking?”

 

And there he was again, asking about Tony's well-being and seeming neither malicious nor sarcastic doing it. The inventor replied hastily: “It's great, far more than I would've expected, honestly. I, uh... thanks, I guess.” He stared at the golden floor. “I just, uh...”

 

“Yes?”, Loki asked, something that almost sounded like concern tinting his voice.

 

“Could...” He swallowed. “Could you show me how to operate that tub sometime? 'Cause I'm really clueless how that's supposed to function without any manuals and all.” He still kept his eyes glued to the floor, expecting the god to lash out in some way, for some reason, out of some motivation Tony didn't understand, because that was always how it was. He didn't need to know what he was punished for, it just happened and he had to suck it up since complaining would make it nothing but worse.

 

But Loki didn't fulfil his expectations, _of course not,_ he had promised (but what was a promise worth if it came from a person claiming to _own_ him?) and instead replied: “Of course I will. Would you rather bathe now or this evening?” Was Loki _actually_ asking Tony if he wants him to delay what he has planned so he can have a bath?

 

“I had a catlick this morning, I think that's okay for now”, he answered and got an odd look from the god. “What, you don't have cats up here?”

 

“We do”, Loki replied, his brows furrowed in confusion. Were he not a slave holder, especially not _Tony's_ slave holder, it would maybe even have looked cute. “I still do not understand why you would have one to... where did you even _get_ a cat?”

 

The engineer laughed, he couldn't help it, he pressed the back of his hand over his mouth as he walked at Loki's side snickering. This was plainly _adorable_ , like a child new to specialist terms – only that those were simple sayings and not some scientific babble that a kid would never understand. No, this one here was a god and he was disconcerted by the use of a word like _catlick_. Come on, how should he _not_ laugh at that?

 

Loki was staring at him with a slightly confused, curious expression and eventually Tony explained: “It's a saying on... well, where I come from. Ain't got nothing to do with cats, it just means having... well, a short wash. Best way I can explain it.”

 

The god just muttered something about “strange creatures” while they walked up a flight of stairs and entered his wing. He opened the door that Tony had to use his full weight for with one hand (not fair) and then gestured for the inventor to go ahead since his room was farther down the corridor than his own. He told Tony to change and then wait for him in the hallway in case that he was finished faster.

 

A few minutes later, Tony stepped out of his room again, having gotten rid of (most of) the flour and wearing a new tunic. Loki was already standing outside, leaning against a wall, and had also changed the complicated green and golden gown full of straps and buckles and ornaments he had worn before into an outfit that was almost identical to the one Tony wore, just that it was dark green and had small, golden ornaments on the sleeves and collar.

 

“Shall we?”, he asked with a smile. “I would like to show you the gardens.”

 

Tony felt his eyes widen. He was going outside. Possibly a bit too enthusiastic, he nodded and hurried over to the god, trying to look not too excited. He had never really appreciated gardens and nature and all that, but after spending months in captivity and that mostly on foreign planets (not that it mattered, because he rarely got to see the outside world), he was dying to see a sun again (and not just through the window of his chamber), even if it wasn't his.

 

Judging by Loki's amused smile, he did seem very eager, but really didn't matter now. _He was going outside!_ As dignified as he managed (which meant that he was hardly bouncing up and down because of excitement) he followed the god's lead. Soon they passed a pair of golden doors and a gush of fresh, but warm air hit the inventor's skin. He stopped, closing his eyes, and just took some deep breaths. The air here was not as painfully hot and dry or humid or cold as on some planets he had visited so far. When he didn't open his eyes, he could almost pretend that he was back on earth, the sun caressing his skin and the smell of flowers hanging distinctly, but not obnoxiously sweet in the air.

 

After about half a minute, he forced himself to open his eyes again and immediately glanced over to Loki. The prince looked thoughtful, not in an angry way, but like he had just realized something.

 

_Of course, you idiot, you're showing weaknesses all the time, he has probably just realized how pathetic you actually are_ , Tony scolded himself and lowered his gaze to the ground. Loki appeared to notice his discomfort because he asked: “Shall we get going, then?” His tone was light, probably purposefully so, and held no reproach or anything even remotely resembling it. He was just too damn friendly to be real.

 

“Yeah”, the inventor replied anyway and looked ahead. A way made of grey marble led, in between bushes and flowers, trough the garden which was so big that he couldn't make out an end. The plants were works of art, every single one trimmed to perfection. As said before, Tony was no fan of nature and especially not so in this caged form, but the sheer amount of colours and smells he had missed for so long allowed him to forget that for a while as he followed Loki. It was almost enough to create an illusion of _home_ , and maybe it was a sign of weakness, but he would give anything for that feeling after months of being away.

 

Loki didn't speak a word while he led the inventor further and further into the garden. Somewhere in the distance there was the sound of water and a few minutes later, they reached a square, completely devoid of people, with a large fountain in its middle. At the edges of the place, there are stone benches and the god gestured towards one of them with a questioning look. Tony, not wanting to interrupt the peaceful silence either, nodded and walked the few steps separating him from the seating accommodation before flopping down onto it. It was definitely more decorative than comfortable, but he was sure that they had walked for at least half an hour and although that didn't really sound like much, he simply wasn't used to so much movement anymore (which was a pretty depressing fact if he came to think about it, but he really didn't want it to destroy his peaceful mood right now). Loki sat down beside him, leaving a respectful distance and the engineer closed his eyes once again.

 

It was some minutes later that his companion broke the quietude with a softly spoken question: “You enjoy it out here, don't you?” Warily, Tony opened his eyes and looked at him while he nodded slowly, but he refrained from saying anything. “How would you feel about accompanying me for a ride tomorrow? Thor and his friends want to go on a hunt, and as much as I loathe their stupid bantering that I'll have to endure, I think you would love Vanaheim's plains and forests.”

 

“I... think I'd like that”, the inventor replied slowly, cautiously. “But I've never actually ridden a horse before, except for some lessons I took when I was a child, and that's years ago, so I'm not sure if I'd be able to keep up with you guys...”

 

Loki's face lit up like a Christmas tree and he stood up from the bench with a grin as he asked: “Would you like me to teach you?”

 

_If you start hopping up and down and squealing, then I'm leaving_ , Tony thought but managed to keep the thought to himself. Jeez, this guy looked like a horse-novel fangirl. Or, um, boy. Whatever. 

 

“I _think_ I'd break an arm”, he pointed out carefully. “Or my neck. Or my everything.” 

 

“There is no need to be afraid”, Loki assured, still beaming like he had just gotten his heart's wish (which was to teach a slave horseback-riding? Well, to each his own) and seeing that he had spent the morning in some council meeting that was probably just as exciting as the Stark Industries board meetings had been, maybe he was really just happy to have an opportunity to move a bit. Tony would bet his ass that Loki would look a lot more graceful than him, but well, for a trip through Vanaheim...

 

“Wait a second”, he said, holding up a finger. “Vanaheim, you said? And you called this place Asgard? Are you actually telling me you're Loki? Like, _Loki_ -Loki? And your brother is _Thor_ as in god-of-thunder-Thor?”

 

“I thought I told you the day before”, Loki answered with a confused frown. “Don't you remember?”

 

“Yes, but I... I didn't think...” Tony desperately tried to remember what he had read about mythology. Which wasn't very much. There was Zeus, Amor – no, wrong one. Uh, Thor, Loki, Odin... “Thor's not your brother, is he?”, he asked while trying to get a grip on the name on the tip of his tongue. “Weren't you... ah, I almost got it, wait...”

 

“Of course Thor is my brother”, the god interrupted. “We grew up together longer than I can even remember.”

 

“But...” Tony frowned and stared at the patterns on the pavement. Loki hadn't been Odin's son, had he? But it was years ago that he had read those books, so maybe he was just mixing things up here. Changing the topic, he asked: “Hey, does that mean I'm about to ride your son?”

 

He still had a feeling like he really needed to remember something important about Loki and Odin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I planned on making Finny a nice character, I really did. He just... happened.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: Horses, nightmares and Pepper-feels.

Horseback-riding was _awful_. At least for the first two hours where Tony kept falling or almost falling from this beast underneath him that was just fucking _huge_. He didn't even get up its back without help and that was so damn embarrassing...

 

But when he slowly began to get a grip on how he had to move with the horse (and thank god(s) it only had four legs, because apparently, the eight-legged one did actually exist), he got almost close to admitting that it was actually fun. Sort of. Mostly it was just that he wasn't condemned to sitting around in a room all day but could move around pretty much freely and, judging by Loki's enthusiasm and all the little smiles and praises, Tony seemed to do really good.

 

They only stopped when the sun started to set. Tony fell from the horse more than he dismounted and it was really hard to decline Loki's offer to support him on the way back to the palace, but his pride (and the part of him that was still extremely uncomfortable with physical contact) just couldn't let him take the opportunity. He was an adult, he could walk just fine by himself.

 

“I will dine with Thor and his friends tonight”, Loki told him as they passed the gates. “Would you like to join us?”

 

The inventor hesitated for a second, considering the offer – because it was an offer, not an order, right? He had a right to decide the way he wanted – before he replied: “Sounds good to me, but I think you'll need to show me how this bathtub works. I don't think I'm in shape for any dinner right now.” Because he was sweaty as hell and definitely smelling like horse.

 

“Of course”, came the reply and when they were back in Loki's wing, the first thing the god did was lead him into the bathroom and kneel down beside the tub. He looked up once to ensure the inventor was watching, then he swiped a hand over the marble and with a golden flicker, a control panel appeared.

 

_Golden, of course_ , was Tony's first thought, the second following immediately:  _Holy shit, is that a holographic display? With a touch sensor? Do they actually have computers here?!_ Crouching down beside Loki, he asked: “How does that work?”

 

The prince, apparently surprised by his curiosity, looked at him thoughtfully for a second before answering: “Magic. It is difficult to explain to someone not familiar with its ways, but if you are interested, I promise to tell you something about it later.”

 

“Sounds awesome”, Tony agreed while he tried to not think too hard about the fact that he had just agreed to learn something about magic which he didn't believe in. But well, he'd seen a lot of things he didn't believe in these past few months, so maybe he shouldn't condemn the idea right from the start. He could always do that later. “How much time do I have?”, he asked.

 

“We will meet up with the others in about an hour from now”, Loki replied as he stood up. “I will clean myself as well. Should I pick you up from here when it's time?”

 

“Alright, let's do that”, the engineer said distractedly while sitting in front of the control panel and examining the buttons. He thought he heard Loki chuckle as he left the room, but that could have been his imagination.

 

Had he really underestimated these Asgardians so much? Yes, Loki called it magic, but this was definitely some sort of computer. Tony tapped one of the buttons that were annotated with little symbols. It seemed to mean hot water, or at least he guessed it did, and as it was pushed there was indeed water running from little openings at the side of the tub, filling it up quickly.

 

For a few seconds, the inventor watched in fascination, then he stepped back to pull off his boots and the other clothes. Being out of the sticky tunic felt like heaven, although it confronted him with the image of himself in the mirror again, with the small black lines running over his chest like a net. He stared at it for a few seconds and briefly wondered if it was going to kill him – or, to pose the question in the right way, _when_ it was going to kill him. He had known about the effects of palladium on the human body when he had installed the reactor in Afghanistan, but back then he had assumed that it would be just a temporary fix which he could replace later. Well, no luck with that.

 

He willed himself to turn away and walk down the steps leading into the tub. The water was warm and felt somehow soft, like a caress, and made him wonder when he'd last had a proper bath instead of cold, brief showers. It seemed far too long ago.

 

Water had made him nervous for a long time, and under the cold spray of the slave ship he had had more than one panic attack – being drowned was still one of the least pleasurable deaths he could imagine – that unsettled him for days afterwards, but this here was nothing like the greasy, icy water in the cave. It was warm, steaming even, and he had all the time in the world (alright, an hour, but that was more than enough) to get accommodated to it in a pace he could choose himself. After sweating on top of a horse for hours, it was wonderful to be able to get rid of dirt and whatever else stuck to him now. As a wonderful side effect, it helped him to forget his worries for a while, as cliché as it might sound. The warmth and the way the water flowed around him smoothly was perfect to make him close his eyes and just forget, relax, something he had not done in a time that felt like eternity.

 

After a while, Tony started to dwell in memories. They destroyed his peaceful moment as they brought up the same painful questions over and over again.

 

_Is anyone still searching for me?_

 

_Did anyone find out what happened?_

 

_Is Obie –_ Obadiah –  _now what he wanted to be? The owner of Stark Industries? He is bound to have been caught by someone, right? Things like these don't just pass by unnoticed... right?!_

 

_What happened to Pepper? Rhodey? Happy?_

 

_...Does anyone even miss me?_

 

True, he had been an annoying manchild during most of his time, and looking back at it – it seemed so far away now – some of it was really embarrassing. But it was who he was, and these people had accepted him like that. To think that he should have vanished out of their minds hurt, just _thinking_ about it was horrifying.

 

Tony shook his head and exhaled a trembling breath, then breathed in deeply and submerged into the steaming water. He didn't stay under for too long, though, since it was still triggering yet more unpleasant memories. Instead, he randomly chose one of the small bottles standing on the edge of the tub and screwed the cab off to sniff at its contents. It smelled sort of herbal and he just hoped that it was some kind of shampoo and rubbed it into his hair. Well, it _did_ produce a lot of bubbles, so he was probably right.

 

After washing himself properly and lounging around a little more, Tony forced himself out of the comfortable warmth of the bath. It was probably time for him to get ready for the dinner where he would, no doubt, be serving Loki. Seeing that it was pretty much the first time he got a task fit for a slave from Loki, he supposed that he could behave for the evening. To get into the god's good graces, of course, not because he liked being here far more than he should. No.

 

But, really, it would be nothing but dumb to give up his comfortable position here so fast, right? It didn't mean he had to _like_ it, had to like Loki, but he could use the guy's friendliness, maybe just for a little while. Only until he found a chance to escape, of course. Up until then, he could play nice. Yup.

 

_Tony, you're in so much trouble_ .

 

Sighing, he dried himself with a towel (or what he thought was a towel) and pulled on a fresh set of the clothes he had been given. Red tunic, black leather pants, boots. Alright then, ready for dinner.

 

Apparently, he had got some pretty good timing because not even two minutes later, there was a knock on the door of the chamber.  _A slave holder who knocks on his servant's door. I'm never going to understand this guy._ Tony opened the door and was greeted by the sight of Loki obviously just coming from the bath, too; his black curls were still slightly damp and freshly combed back. 

 

He looked the inventor up and down once and then asked, smiling: “Well, shall we?”

 

“We shall”, Tony replied with a grin and followed while Loki led him through the golden hallways (god, there was no way he could escape from here – he _had_ a good sense of orientation, but all of this looked just the fucking same! He'd just walk in circles over and over again) until they stopped in front of another large set of doors. Loki turned around briefly to explain: “We will dine in Thor's chambers tonight.” Then, he pushed the door open without any noticeable strain (and these things were damn heavy) to reveal something that was probably the Asgardian equivalent of a living room, just larger and (surprise!) more golden. In the middle of it was a huge table where prince Goldilocks was already seated with his buddies, including the dark-haired woman with the short name.

 

“Brother!”, Thor boomed and raised his mug, sending part of its contents splashing over the rim and onto the robe (or tunic or shirt, whatever) of the red-bearded one which earned him an elbow to the ribs. “You are moody today, Volstagg”, the blonde remarked and got a snort in reply.

 

“No, I am soaked in your beer”, the guy shot back sullenly and gulped down the contents of his own mug.

 

The woman leaned back in her seat with crossed arms and an eye-roll that said, more distinctly than words ever could,  _Grow up, you morons_ . The exchange had Tony snickering quietly and Loki threw him a questioning look, but never heard a word of explanation since there was an arm around his shoulders at the next moment.

 

“Loki, my dearest prince”, the second blondie drawled with a shit-eating grin on his face, “how about you and me, just –”

 

“No”, Loki interrupted. “I am still not taking you to bed. Try again later, please.” With that, he shrugged Fandral's arm off and made his way to the table.

 

Tony gave the kind of awkward snorting laughter that happened when you were trying really hard  _not_ to laugh and it still happened. Fandral looked at him, grinning, and shrugged while saying: “He is no fun, is he?”

 

“Just how long are you doing this already?”, the engineer asked while following Loki to the table.

 

“Oh, it might already be a century or two”, the warrior replied lightly. Loki turned around and added: “Yes, around that. You _are_ a persistent pest, aren't you.”

 

Fandral showed a look of mock-hurt and held a hand to his heart. “Why do you ridicule my attempts to gain your everlasting affection so, my dearest prince?”

 

“Because you already have the _everlasting affection_ of about every court lady. Something about that just makes me feel like your wooing is not quite serious”, Loki deadpanned. 

 

“All of them are mere distractions from you, my prince”, Fandral retorted without missing a beat.

 

“How much should I wager that you tell this to every single one of them?”, the mage responded.

 

Tony chimed in: “Do you have that kind of discussion, uhm... frequently?” He couldn't help but grin at the banter between the two that seemed like they had exchanged all their arguments a thousand times already.

 

“Yes”, Loki replied immediately, while, in the exact same second, Fandral said: “No.”

 

Tony just raised his eyebrows and grinned, clasping his hands together behind his back because he was unsure of what to do with himself. He would play nice, he decided. He needed to gain Loki's trust to escape and that would be easier if he acted like it was expected from a slave.

 

“Are you going to sit down sometime today?”, Loki asked with a pointed look to the chair beside him.

 

Well, maybe the expectations were a bit different from what he had thought. Loki seemed like a person who was always in for a surprise. Perhaps, in another situation and possibly even another life, Tony would have liked him. He couldn't like him now, of course, for the obvious reasons... Although he had treated him nothing but good so far, but still. Liking him would be wrong, extremely wrong.

 

Shaking his head to get rid of his whirling thoughts, he seated himself on the chair next to Loki and revelled in the feeling to sit at a real table again, not on the floor on his knees or somewhere in a secluded chamber. It was something small, yes; he wouldn't have wasted a second thought to sitting at a table just a year ago, but now it made him feel... equal. It was incredibly relieving.

 

He eyed the table that was full of various kinds of food, some of them familiar, others looking completely foreign. Unsure if there was some proper etiquette, he glanced over at Loki who had just piled some purple fruits onto his plate and then returned his look with a small smile and a gesture towards the food.

 

“I am not going to serve you, Anthony”, he said with a hint of amusement, although he didn't look malicious or even mocking. “Go on, eat.”

 

Tony nodded, made a movement to reach out and hesitated again. “So, um, is there anything I need to be careful with? Like, I don't know, something I need to mind because I might insult someone's mother if I hold my spoon the wrong way?”

 

The mage blinked a few times and then broke into a quiet laugh, not loud and boisterous like Thor's that sounded from the other side of the table, but full of mirth nonetheless. Grinning, he replied: “No, there is nothing I can think of that you would need to mind. Since you did not grow up here, nobody expects you to know all our customs. I shall tell you if there is something wrong.”

 

Nodding again, Tony grabbed one of the fruits (resembling peaches, but bigger and... well, purple) that he had seen Loki eating with his bare hands and followed the god's example. The strong, sweet taste of it practically _exploded_ on his tongue and he coughed, fighting the urge to spit it out again. Instead, he swallowed it down and reached for a slice of warm bread, taking a large bite and soothing the ache in his mouth.

 

Of course, that didn't go by unnoticed and he felt himself pierced by Loki's quizzical look. The inventor smiled, slightly embarrassed, and tried to explain: “Sorry, I'm... uh... just not used to it anymore, I guess. I mean, that kind of... strong food. The most tasteful stuff I ate in the past... eight months?... was the bread yesterday, apart from that, most of it didn't really taste like anything much. So I was kinda surprised because that... thing”, he gestured towards the purple fruit, “was so extremely sweet.”

 

There was a flash of something in the prince's eyes, too fleeting for Tony to read, and then he turned back towards the table with a slow nod and reached across the table to get his hands on a deeply yellow fruit, telling Tony to try that one instead.

 

The rest of the dinner went by without anything remarkable (except maybe for a dialogue between Loki and Fandral that went along the lines of “If you throw me one more of your leering looks, Fandral, I am going to rip your eyeballs out and have them served to me for breakfast tomorrow”, to which Fandral replied that then, he would have at least one part of him inside of Loki. Tony kinda liked the guy – his taste of humour was extremely refreshing).

 

He fell asleep fast that evening.

 

~*~

 

_He breathes in, but there is only water filling his lungs, not the oxygen they are screaming for. Hands are holding him down and pressing him under water, the surface seeming to be miles and miles away._

 

_As he resurfaces, it's not in a cave, but in a room full of cages filled with miserable... creatures, because the term_ people _stopped applying to these beings a long time ago. None of them move, no-one does even seem to be appalled by what is happening right in front of them._

 

_Just a second before his face gets pressed into the cold, greasy water again, Tony catches a glimpse of someone with tousled, strawberry-blond hair in one of the cages, her eyes resting on him impassively. She looks worn-out, tired, but most of all, absolutely uncaring. Tony has to admit that he would rather see her screaming, thrashing out, maybe even crying, but not like this. Not this... empty._

 

“ _Pepper!”, he cries out, half of the word getting drowned with dirty, cold water again. His hands are useless, tied together behind his back and his struggles completely in vain. When he feels like he has drowned twice already, he is dragged back up so he can breathe in the air – but it's hot, almost burning his lungs and he can't really get any air in because he is still coughing up water, choking on what is still stuck in his throat. As soon as he can somehow breathe again, he rasps out: “Pepper!”_

 

“ _Anthony!” That's wrong, she never calls him that. He doesn't have the time to dwell on that, though, because there are hands pulling on him, on his clothes, tearing and hurting._

 

“ _Pep”, he forces out, trying to fight the hands and arms and... other body parts he doesn't want to think about. For a split-second, he is aware that this must be a dream because there are no actual bodies attached to them. He knows they're there, sure, but he can't see them, he just feels them pulling._

 

_The moment of clearness is gone not soon after and he is yelling for Pepper again. He's not sure why since she is caged and doesn't even seem to notice him, but it's the only thing he feels able to do._

 

_That is, until the pulling and tearing stops and he is kneeling right in front of her cage, looking up since it's dangling from the ceiling, and she asks with a bored expression: “Would that be all, Mr Stark?”_

 

That would be all, Ms Potts.

 

_His eyes widen – she doesn't care. She's just as impassive as she looks. She's –_

 

– awake, he was awake and he was still screaming her name, his face wet with sweat and tears _and dirty cave water –_ no, no, he was fine, he was in a room in a bed and he was...

 

“Are you with me, Anthony?”

 

“Fuck!” With a yelp, he bolted upright and stared at his bedside and the dark silhouette sitting there. It took him a moment until he recognized Loki and let out the breath that had been stuck in his throat, only now becoming aware of the hand on his shoulder and the fact that Loki was kneeling on the mattress beside him with wide, concerned eyes. _What the hell was Loki doing in his bed?_ Tony's first instinct was to flinch away, but even with the nightmare still lingering he had enough self-control not to do so. Instead, he wiped his face clean (or as clean as the bed sheet allowed) and muttered indistinctly: “What're you doin' here, anyway?”

 

“You have been screaming”, the god stated matter-of-factly and Tony winced. Great. There were a few beats of silence and he stared at his hands, still shaking slightly, curled around the sheet, until Loki asked: “Who is Pepper?”

 

The question was startling and there dozens of answers tumbled into Tony's mind at once. _Assistant. Organiser. Pepper. Listener. A shoulder to cry on – even when I didn't actually meant to. Life-saver. Sister. Just Pepper._

 

_Would that be all, Mr Stark?_

 

He felt his eyes water again and pressed his palms against them, angry about this lack of self-control. He'd never cried in these past few months – screamed, raged, sometimes fell low enough to beg, but no _crying_ – and now a simple question was enough? A personal question, yes; maybe that was the point. Being treated like a person rather than an object that was to be shaped and controlled.

 

With remarkable effort to keep his voice levelled, he answered: “She was a... very close friend of mine. Before I got... well.” He exhaled a shuddering breath in another attempt to keep his tears at bay, still with his hands pressed over his eyes. “I think I had a crush on her, but she was pretty adamant about keeping everything professional, so...” God, he was stammering, this was so damn embarrassing. “We got along great, but now I don't even know if she's alive or if he decided she's too much of a threat to –“ At the end of the sentence, his voice broke and slipped upwards at least an octave, announcing the sob that followed suit.

 

There was some rustling on the sheets beside him, then Loki somehow sneaked his arms around the inventor's frame and pulled him into a tight hug without saying a word. For a second, Tony tensed and somewhere a voice piped up, telling him that he totally shouldn't be allowing this, that he should be screaming and fighting against it, but there was another feeling, too.

 

He had fought for months, struggled and bitten and kicked and snapped, and he didn't regret one second of it. But maybe he was finally allowed to be weak for once.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... I'm through with my pre-written chapters, so you get a say now: Would you like to read something from Loki's perspective, too?  
> Edit: There is a bonus to this chapter now, it's called "With reason and purpose" and is part two of this series. Enjoy!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanaheim. Horses. Loki confronts Tony with the palladium issue. Oh, and also: kidnapping!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay, but it was my birthday so everything was sort of delayed these days :D  
> Also, for those who didn't notice, last week's update was a one-shot from Loki's POV, second part of this series, which I recommend you to read because... you know. Fluffy stuff.
> 
> Enough from me, have fun!

“Anthony, you need to wake up.”

 

Tony whined into his pillow. “Don't wanna. Go away.”

 

“Anthony.”

 

“Leave me alone.”

 

“ _Anthony..._ ”

 

When the comfortable haziness of sleep began to slowly drift away, Tony realized what he was doing right now. He was _actively refusing an order_ from his owner. Not-owner. Whatever. And although he was still testing his boundaries, judging by the tone of annoyance in Loki's voice, this was not a good idea. Hastily – perhaps a bit too hastily, as it caused a sharp pain in his chest right where the reactor sat – he rolled onto his back and stifled a groan, blinking sleepily to see Loki, crouched down at his bedside and his brows furrowed. Not angry yet, but clearly annoyed. As he saw Tony starting to wake up, his expression softened.

 

“I know you have not slept well, but Thor will be expecting us to be ready shortly after dawn. It is about time.”

 

The inventor's tired brain needed a few seconds to digest that sentence. First – how did Loki know that? Wait. Yes. Oh sweet mother of all embarrassments, that was _horrible._ He'd had a breakdown right in front of Loki and he'd told him so much that he wasn't supposed to know – that _nobody_ was supposed to know, really – and had literally cried in his arms. Most. Awkward. Moment. Ever.

 

Alright, happened, not changing, so he might as well get over it. Moving on to secondly: Shortly after dawn. He glanced out of the window. It was pitch black outside. Literally pitch black. And Loki was waking him up.

 

The world was _so_ unfair. Or... the worlds. He was seriously too tired to deal with that right now and so he didn't manage more than an affirmative sound in reply before forcing himself upright. Standing up wasn't the most difficult thing he'd ever done, right? But it felt that way, right now. _Jeez, Tony, stop being a whiny little child, this is not the worst thing that's happened to you._ Besides, he had been able to go on for days without sleep before, so why not now?

 

He swung his legs off the bed and swallowed, grimacing at the bitter, metallic taste on the back of his throat. Where did that come from now?

 

With a shake of his head, he stood up and looked at Loki. The god was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and they looked rumpled, as if he had slept in them. His hair was tousled and he looked every inch like somebody who had just crawled out of bed.

 

_Had he slept in Tony's bed?!_

 

Apparently, the inventor's staring was very obvious, because Loki made a shooing motion with his hands and told him to get going already. He had probably overslept himself (what kind of normal person rises at dawn, anyway?) and just wanted to be on time now, which was why he had come to Tony's room before dressing himself. That could take hours, judging by the hundreds of straps and buckles the engineer had seen on the armour earlier.

 

That had to be it. Yes.

 

Day three with Loki began with a hasty scramble to get dressed and halfway presentable – he was riding with princes, after all – and continuous hiding of yawns that just wouldn't stop coming. Loki had explained that they would have breakfast later, so they made their way to the stables without visiting Finny in the kitchen. What a shame, the poor boy would be devastated. Tony grinned to himself.

 

Fandral and Hogun had already mounted their horses and were chattering among themselves (or, actually, Fandral talked and Hogun seemed to be somewhere else entirely, lost in his own thoughts. Tony hadn't heard him speak a single word yet. Loki greeted them with a nod and vanished into the stable, Tony on his heel. They picked the same horses that they had practised with the day before (or, to be more exact, Tony had practised and Loki had laughed at his expense from his own horse). They were already saddled so all they had to do was mount them.

 

Ah, yes. About that.

 

“Loki!”, the engineer yelped. “The horse is trying to eat me!”

 

“Most certainly not”, came the dry reply. “You are aware that they are vegetarian, yes?”

 

“Well, _this one_ isn't! I swear, it's going to eat me!”

 

Loki rolled his eyes. “You got along with it just fine yesterday.”

 

“Maybe it's on its period”, Tony grumbled sulkily.

 

“It is a _stallion_ , Anthony.”

 

“Can't hear you, busy being eaten.”

 

There was a long, deep sigh and a rustle of fabric and then, Loki stood beside him and practically hoisted Tony up onto his horse. The inventor yelped and clung to the reins for a moment, but then willed himself to remember what he had learned the day before. Riding wasn't that hard.

 

“Okay then, but don't expect me to shoot anything from up here”, he declared. “Not that I've got a problem with shooting things, but bow and arrow aren't exactly my strength.”

 

“No-one is expecting you to shoot anything”, Loki replied with a trace of amusement. “To be honest, I mostly asked for you to come so I have someone around to talk to when I have to spend my time with oafs like _Fandral._ ” The last bit was spoken so loud that the blond man was bound to hear it even over his own talking and got an immediate response.

 

“Loki, you hurt my feelings”, Fandral drawled and threw a leering grin in Loki's direction.

 

“What a shame”, the god commented drily. “I should go and pick some flowers to soothe your heartache.”

 

“Or you could just come over here and –“

 

“Still no luck, Fandral.”

 

“So I have to pick my flowers myself?”

  
“It appears so.”

 

Tony watched the exchange with an amused expression, although he felt a pang of sympathy for Fandral. The guy seemed to be seriously crushing on Loki for, what had he said the other day, two or three centuries?! He wouldn't even live that long. Especially not now with the poison slowly creeping through his body.

 

He shook his head as if that would help him to get rid of the thoughts. He was going to have a nice day now and definitely not going to think about the palladium or the disgusting taste it left in the back of his throat. A nice day. When had he last started a day thinking it was going to be nice? Loki had him here three days and Tony was already all wrapped around his lil' finger. He should be ashamed of himself, really, but Loki hadn't given him any reason to fear him, so why waste the bit of calmness he had on panicking about something that wasn't worth the effort? He could worry when the time came. Now, he was going to enjoy his day. Because he could do that, apparently.

 

They departed almost half an hour later, when an apparently hungover Thor finally arrived with Volstagg in his tow, making Tony wonder why he had had to hurry so much. He was riding next to Loki, the last in the formation, following Hogun and Volstagg while Fandral and Thor led them all through Asgard's streets. All of them, including Loki, were dressed in lighter leather outfits than the ones Tony had seen them in before, without metal parts and definitely easier to move in. Even out here in the streets, the golden colour was overwhelmingly present and Tony looked forward to seeing something else again.

 

He got something else before they reached Vanaheim.

 

The inventor had just been about to ask how the hell they would reach another world when the answer presented itself. A giant, long bridge, glowing in rainbow colours, that stretched over space and made all of Tony's instincts revolt because hey, oxygen? Apart from just about every law of physic...

 

“The Bifröst”, Loki said upon seeing his wide-eyed gaping. “The bridge that connects Asgard with all the other realms.”

 

“All the realms?”, the engineer repeated. “As in, every single one?”

 

Loki gave him a unfathomable look, no doubt thinking something he didn't let shine through, before he answered: “Yes. Every single one.”

 

_Home_ . The thought struck him like a lightning and suddenly, Tony was glad he didn't have to walk on his own.  _Home_ . This was his key to get back to Earth, to... no, not his family, but the closest thing he had to one. If they were still alive. He couldn't find out if he didn't go there himself, could he? This... thing, the Bifröst, it would him allow to return home. It repeated in his head over and over again.  _Home. The key to get home. Right at my feet... figuratively speaking. Hooves, that's more like it._ If he could just find a way to get there alone and figure out how to use it... Ah, wait.

 

“So”, he said slowly, “this is making me curious. How do you operate this intergalactic portal thing?”

 

“The gatekeeper Heimdall can activate its powers with his sword. The only other way use it is taking Gungnir, the king's spear, and embed it in the socket.” Loki watched him with keen eyes and Tony tried not to let his disappointment show. Gatekeeper. Of course they would have a gatekeeper for a place like this. It would be ridiculous if they hadn't. But still... it felt like Thor had crushed his building hopes with that hammer of his that he currently swung around while recounting some tale to Fandral. This thing could bring him _home_ , it had given him hope that he had forbidden himself to have, that he could actually go home, but... there was nothing to it, after all. There was no way he would get past a gatekeeper without permission when he didn't even manage to find his way out of the palace without being caught.

 

Realizing that Loki probably expected an answer, he said belatedly: “I see. He's a good gatekeeper, I assume?”  _Dammit, Tony, keep your stupid mouth shut!_

 

“Very much so. He can see everything that occurs in all the nine realms and beyond that.”

 

“That's... yeah.” Nothing much to say to that. “That counts as good gatekeeper, I guess.”

 

“It does indeed.” Loki looked forward again, his expression somewhat more tense than before. Alright, so Tony's line of questioning hadn't exactly been subtle, so the god had probably noticed where he was going with it. Well, damn. He stared at the reins in his hands and noticed for the first time just how artfully they were made, with black ornaments burned into the brown leather. They didn't form any specific pattern, at least, none that Tony could see, but that made them even more fascinating to stare at (it could be the fact that there was a certain prince whose eyes he didn't want to meet, too, but intricate patterns sounded like a far better excuse for that).

 

Why did he have a bad conscience, anyway? It wasn't like he owned it to Loki. He had bought him as a slave and Tony had made pretty clear that he was neither respectful nor obedient nor happy with being a slave, so he had absolutely no reason to behave himself in a way that made Loki happy. More like the opposite. He had done it with all his 'owners' before, so why not with this one?

 

He had posed that question to himself time and time again in these past few days, but he never found a sufficient answer. Yes, Loki was much kinder than anyone he had encountered in a long time, but still, it had taken him less than three days (day three was just getting started, after all) to make Tony trust him – to some degree, at least. He had told him about Pepper, for crying it out loud.

 

Only when they reached the strange (which was actually just the word Tony used so he didn't have to say golden again) dome at the end of the bridge, Tony tore his gaze away from his hands, or, um, the _interesting_ pattern on the reins, and looked at their surroundings. Meaning, mostly empty space that should make it impossible to breathe or, you know, live, but it didn't. Obviously. It should be a sad statement about his life that this wasn't the weirdest thing he had experienced in the last, what, not even 72 hours?

 

Thor exchanged some words with the gatekeeper, an intimidating, tall man in a golden armour who didn't look like the classic Asgardian (as in big, blonde, blue-eyed) but was dark-skinned and met Tony's gaze out of shining, golden eyes that seemed like they could see right through all of his masks and lies into his core. He would say it was fascinating, or maybe thrilling, but actually it was just fucking unsettling, that's what it was. He looked away pretty quickly...

 

...which caused him to meet Loki's eyes, of course, and he smiled weakly as he asked: “So, how exactly does this thing work? I mean, what you did there when you... got me”, yeah, Tony, very subtle, “was definitely something like teleporting, but how do you do that sort of thing? I'm not sure how y'all handle things here in Gold City, but where I come from, we've got physics, and those have laws, and you should be arrested for breaking every single one of them. Always. Let's start with how we're even _breathing._ ”

 

The mage looked at Tony for a long moment, but then luckily decided to roll with his poorly performed out-of-the-awkward-silence-leap and replied: “Have you ever heard of the ash tree Yggdrasil?” Tony shook his head mutely. “When I, as you so sophisticatedly put it, _teleport_ , I use its branches to reach my destination.”

 

“I, uh, what? Like, you're climbing the – wait, what kind of tree anyway?” The inventor shook his head. “That's absolutely – well, I don't know if that stuff is common knowledge here, but if you wanna explain it to me, you'll need to start from ground zero. Or maybe less than zero. Yeah. That'd be great.”

 

Finally, Loki laughed, even if it was just a little bit. Nodding, he said: “Yes, I shall do that. But before I begin, don't you want to see it for yourself?”

 

“What do you mean, see for my- whoa!” Without any warning, Tony felt a pull ripping him from where he stood (or, more accurately, sat) and he had just enough presence of mind to cling to his mount's mane as everything became a blur of colours. _Rainbow bridge, huh._ His whole body told him to close his eyes because otherwise, he might just throw up into the multi-coloured empty space, but the swirl of stars and suns and moons was just to captivating not to watch. So what if it made him feel slightly sick, this was just about everything astronautics could ever hope to discover. They were travelling so damn fast that they could move between planets in mere _seconds_ , and that without special equipment or suits or anything.

 

Just a moment later, it was over again, and a strong breeze blew his (slightly too long) hair out of his face. Tony breathed in deeply and looked around, and for a second he almost believed that he was back on Earth. Then, he reminded himself that no, this was Vanaheim (with an 'r' that was impossible to pronounce tacked somewhere, but he decided to leave that out). He half-turned towards Loki and admitted: “Okay, so I'm impressed. How do the horses do that thing where they don't freak out? I thought they were more... skittish.”

 

“Some of Asgard's horses get trained especially for this sort of travel”, Loki explained. “Now, you wanted to know something about Yggdrasil, right?” He tugged at the reins of his mount and it began to trot behind the rest of the group, Tony following suit. Soon, they were next to each other, close enough to talk in a normal voice, and the engineer challenged: “Sure. Hit me.”

 

And Loki did.

 

He talked, slowly at first, but in no time getting into it and explaining with fluid hand motions and clever words, with a glint to his eyes that Tony had never seen before (alright, he had only known Loki for almost three days, but still; this seemed unique). He talked about Yggdrasil, the nine realms nestled in its branches and their connection to one another, about the way some mages were able to walk these branches so they could travel without having to use the Bifröst, about hidden pathways between realms, and then he came to magic. Of course, the topic made Tony sceptical at first, but Loki's way of speaking about it had him hooked pretty quickly. He threw in some remarks of his own and after what was surely an hour, let the god convince him that magic was just another form of science that wasn't yet discovered by mortals. Humans. Whatever.

 

The conversation came to a halt when they reached a forest, apparently the place where Thor and his friends were planning to hunt. The horses were bound to trees near the brim of the forest and after a short glance to Tony, Loki offered to watch them to prevent theft because there was a village nearby and too many people on a hunt would only drive away the prey. Fandral gave the two of them a trademark suggestive grin and a wink, but followed the other three into the forest.

 

Loki rummaged around in the saddle bags of his horse, then he pulled out a small, white linen bag that contained a loaf of bread and some cheese, as well as a variation of different kinds of fruit. Perks of being a prince, Tony guessed, this was practically a picnic. Let Thor do the hunting business, he had no problems with that.

 

After handing over a slice of bread, Loki asked: “Well then, are you going to tell me what that is?” He gave a nod towards the arc reactor.

 

“Wow, now that was subtle”, Tony mused, but he wasn't actually startled or even surprised. He had noticed that the god was interested in his little night light, and although he might not be ready to share the story behind it just yet, he could probably explain the technological aspects, couldn't he? Knowledge for knowledge, that seemed fair. He cleared his throat. “Well, it's actually much bigger. The original thing was big enough to fill the bathroom of...” He hesitated to say _my room_ , but that's what it was, wasn't it? Loki had given them to him. “... of my room”, and yes, that sounded much more careful than he wanted it to, but whatever, “or maybe I'm exaggerating here, but you know what I mean. It was big. This baby here”, he tapped the reactor with a fingernail, “is a miniature of that technology. Powered by a palladium core and completely clean. No environmental pollution or anything, not that that seems to be a problem on Asgard. I made it smaller, more compact, because I think you can imagine that anything else would've been pretty impractical.” He gave a nervous little laugh, because despite his light attitude, the topic still set him on edge.

 

“And _why_ do you need it?”, Loki inquired curiously, but there was something else, something less innocent behind his words, something in his eyes that made him seem almost predatory. Tony didn't like that look at all.

 

“Let's just say it's... important. Health issues and all that.” Close enough.

 

“Health issues”, the god repeated, sounding almost incredulous.

 

“Yeah, it's, uh...” Tony began to scramble for an excuse, what could possibly require something like the reactor to fix it that would _not_ mention shrapnel and how he got it and why –

 

Thankfully, Loki took on the speaking part: “And you said it has a palladium core, didn't you?” The engineer nodded. So they could get back to talking science now, Tony was comfortable with that – “I am not a smith, but from what I heard, palladium is poisonous even to Asgardians.” Well, fuck.

 

“Y-you heard that”, the inventor repeated nervously. “Huh, that's... strange. I never heard of something like that before. Maybe you're... mixing stuff up? There are lots of metals after all, I'm sure palladium is just fine –“

 

“Oh, _stop it_ ”, Loki interrupted. He reached over from where he sat and yanked Tony's tunic down enough to make the black lines on his chest visible. The engineer immediately flinched backwards, firstly because Loki was touching him and no, that was just not right, and secondly – yeah, well, damn. “I am not blind, Anthony.”

 

“I'm _fine_!”, Tony snapped and wrenched himself free of the god's grip, scrambling to his feet. “That's perfectly normal.”

 

“It's not”, Loki responded quietly, also getting to his feet and following Tony who was slowly receding backwards. “You're not fine.”

 

“Of course I'm fucking fine!” _And if I'm dead in a week or two, well, what are you gonna do about it?_ “This. Is. Normal.”

 

“Anthony”, the prince said slowly and made the name sound like a threat, “stop it. You should know better than trying to deceive the god of lies, because you are many things, but I am sure a fool is not one of them.”

 

“I'm okay”, Tony tried again, although he noticed himself that it sounded pathetically fragile. He took another step backwards. “This is okay.”

 

“This”, Loki jabbed his index finger against the reactor, pushing Tony another step back, “is not _okay._ It is poisoning you and you should know that better than I do.”

 

The engineer's back hit a tree and he swallowed, the metallic, bitter taste on the back of his throat suddenly becoming overly present. Still, he wasn't ready to give this argument or whatever it was up just yet. Stubbornly, he repeated: “I'm okay. I'm not poisoned. I'm _not dying_.”

 

“You are.” Loki didn't say anything more, just these two words, but he said them so coldly and strictly that there didn't need to be anything more. Tony's quiet “Am not” sounded more like a plea than like him actually giving Loki contra. It was impossible to say more because suddenly, there was a lump in his throat, a barrier that kept him from speaking.

 

Despite the mess his life had become, Tony didn't want to die. He had refused to even consider it so far. Dying would mean giving up and he had sworn not to do that. Just that you sometimes didn't get a say in these things. If he knew a possible replacement for palladium and a way to acquire it, this wouldn't be a problem, but, as a matter of fact, he didn't know one. He didn't have a solution. He had not the faintest clue what to do and it was literally killing him.

 

“You are”, Loki repeated harshly, “and I am expecting you to do something about it.” Tony looked up from the armour he had been staring at, surprised by the god's words. “You were able to build this, you will find a way help your _health issues_ without killing you. Are we clear on this?” Speechlessly, the inventor nodded and finally, Loki allowed the hint of a smile on his face. “Good. Because I would hate to –“

 

His eyes widened and he sucked in a ragged breath, stumbling half a step forward. Tony was about to ask what was wrong when he saw the tip of an arrow protruding from the god's shoulder. Right, Loki didn't wear his battle armour, just this leather stuff – this was bad, who would attack a prince of Asgard in a place like this? Loki had said it was peaceful here, dammit!

 

After a second, Loki caught himself and his face twisted into a furious snarl. With a crack that made Tony wince, the shaft of the arrow was broken off and Loki threw it to the ground, whirling around. His stance shifted in something remotely defensive, his arms hovering at his sides, ready to strike and with daggers in them that Tony had not seen the prince carrying, but he didn't move away. It took a moment for Tony to realize that the god was shielding him.

 

“Who has the audacity to attack a prince of Asgard on a peaceful hunting trip?”, he demanded angrily. As a response, another arrow came flying towards Loki, but this time, he caught it in mid-air and hissed towards Tony: “Into the forest. Quickly!” Then, he set off towards the direction where the arrow had come from.

 

The inventor didn't waste any time and ran off into the woods, hoping that maybe he could find Thor and his buddies if he was fast enough. Loki would handle himself, right? _Well, he_ is _injured_ , a small voice on the back of his head piped up. _And he's also a god and just caught an arrow without even flinching. He'll be fine._ On the other hand, if the attackers were also gods of some sort...

 

Tony's thoughts were interrupted by something hard colliding with his head. He stumbled and fell, but by the time he hit the ground, he was already unconscious.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter end inspired by: the Edda. Yeah, I got it for my birthday and jeez, Loki didn't make much friends, did he. One of his MANY enemies is behind this. Have fun guessing, if anyone read it. Hint: Lokasenna. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concussions, blood, a vengeful goddess and a really angry Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for my beta Myrsky in this chapter for giving me the idea with Freyja :D I researched her in the Edda a bit and... yup, she fits the role. ;)

 

Waking up with a pounding headache and in chains caused Tony a dreadful sense of déjà-vu. Months of practice helped him to keep his breath steady so he didn't seem awake yet. Even f he couldn't open his eyes he tried to find out as much as possible about the situation he was in. What greeted him was an unnerving silence. The only sound was his own breathing echoing from the walls of whatever room he was in. He was laying on his side on some cold, uneven stone floor, wrists and ankles cuffed. Great. Just great.

 

After one or two minutes that didn't indicate anybody else's presence in the room, he cautiously opened his eyes. He immediately felt like closing them again. Do it again, maybe you'll come out somewhere else. Worth a try.

 

Needless to say, it didn't work.

 

Keeping himself from cursing, the inventor shifted into an halfway upright position and glared at his surroundings as if that would change anything. A cave. A small one at that. What was the deal with villains and caves?

 

The room was about three steps long and wide, its ceiling high enough to stand without problems, even for somebody of Thor's size, but it still gave Tony a distinct feeling of claustrophobia. Still, he managed to keep his breathing remotely stable. Panicking didn't help anyone. There was an exit from the small room, furs hanging in front of it.

 

Swallowing, his stomach revolting with anxiety (but he was silently proud of himself because he had woken up in chains, in a cave, with no idea where and why he was here, and still didn't have a panic attack), he crawled over to the doorway on his hands and knees. The clinking of the chains felt horribly loud in the almost deafening silence, but there was nothing he could do about that. With an only slightly shaking hand he reached up and slowly pulled one of the furs aside. The dim light that had allowed him to see something in the small room he'd woken up in became stronger, and with it came...

 

... _noise_.

 

With a start, Tony flinched backwards. As soon as the fur dropped back into its place, everything was silent again. But for a moment, there had been noise. Alright, maybe _noise_ was a harsh way to put it, but he had heard voices talking quietly, the rustle of clothing, the crackling of a fire. Normal everyday sounds.

 

Cautiously, he pulled the fur to the side once more and there it was again, sound. There was no way that just this thing blocked out all the noise from outside. That was ridiculous, after aliens and space ships he came to magical sound-dampening fur covers... wait. Magical. He stifled a groan. Yep, he'd made up his mind. He fucking hated magic. Because magic was the only reasonable explanation to this, wasn't it?

 

_No, it's not_ , his mind snapped at him.  _Magic is not fucking reasonable._ Yeah, whatever. It was the only explanation, even if it wasn't reasonable. 

 

With his curiosity spiked, he opened and closed the gap in the fur covering several times more. Closing it was like closing a sound-proof door, together with the light (he was sure it was firelight, judging from its flickering quality) it locked out every sound. 

 

As he opened it for about the seventh time, a silky, female voice came through together with the reddish light: “Aren't you going to come out?” Startled, he dropped the fur back in place and pulled his hands back against his chest, sitting up on his heels. Then it struck him how ridiculous that had to look – him sitting in front of the entrance, opening and closing it over and over again like a small child might play with a music box. And whoever was in there had noticed. Great.

 

Well. If he was going to get out there, it was definitely not going to be on his hands and knees. With a little bit of awkward scrambling because of the short chains, he stood up and had to fight a wave of nausea right after. Concussed, probably. Just really damn peachy, that. Whoever that woman out there was, he was pretty sure he didn't like her. But he wasn't going to hide in here (pointless, really, since she had obviously put him in this situation in the first place), so he could just as well get this over with.

 

As confident as he could manage, he brushed the furs aside and stepped through the narrow doorway, then remembered the shackles around his ankles and almost stumbled. So much for a dignified entrance. He made up for it with a glare as vicious as he could muster. He faltered in his steps as he took in the second, larger cave; there was a fire near to one wall, some people (to him, they looked like Asians, just with longer hair and, in some cases, beards, than you usually saw) were leaning against the stone next to it, chattering quietly among themselves, and right opposite from him was a large, golden lounge sofa with red, silky-looking cushions. It was ridiculously misplaced in the plain stone cave, almost to the point of making Tony actually laugh, just as the blonde woman sprawled out on top of it. Her hair fell down her shoulders in golden curls and she wore a white dress that practically flowed down her body, hugging every curve and bringing out her pale skin and blue eyes.

 

“So you are Loki's new toy, aren't you now”, she drawled. If her looks had brought her the slightest benefit in Tony's judgement of her (come on, he was only a man after all), it was gone now.

 

“No idea what you're talking about”, he responded and just barely refrained from crossing his arms because that wouldn't go too well with the cuffs.

 

“Oh, _dear_ ”, she exclaimed theatrically, turning to the men in the cave, “did you hit his head too hard?”

 

“Ha-ha-ha”, the inventor uttered sarcastically. “My goodness, you're so funny. I can't hold myself. _Hilarous._ Ever thought about – _ow_!” He had gotten a slap to the back of his head from one of the men that didn't do anything good for his concussion-induced headache. In fact, it made him stumble several steps forward and he only just stifled a pained groan. The sound somehow got converted into: “Oh, I see. You're one of the _really_ charming kind. What a pleasure to make your aquaintance.”

 

“I can see why Loki likes you”, the woman stated coldly. There was a disdainful pull around her mouth while she looked him up and down.

 

“What, you hit him over the head with a brick, too?”, Tony quipped. “There are other ways to meet people, you know? For one, you can talk to them. Introduce yourself, which usually starts with _Hello_ and not with _Lemme just knock you out and shackle you because that makes my socially awkward side feel so much better._ I'm sure there are books about the subject, maybe –“

 

“Norns, could _someone_ please gag him?”, she groaned. 

 

“Funny”, Tony mused while backing away from a pale-skinned guy approaching him. “People seem to enjoy that. I wonder why?”

 

“Strange, isn't it”, his captor said with a deadpan expression.

 

“Yeah. I don't get it either”, the engineer continued, pretending he hadn't noticed the irony and looking for an escape route that was not blocked by these... whatever they were. Unsurprisingly, there wasn't one. “Why would people want to deprive themselves of my beautiful voice? I mean, it's such a shame to waste – oh no, don't you dare, that's not going into my mouth, you little – _umph_!” One of the men fastened the improvised gag (just a bundle of fabric) with a knot at the back of Tony's head while another one held him in place with what was definitely more than normal human strength. Well, they weren't human, obviously.

 

With all hatred and defiance he could muster, Tony stared at the still nameless woman on her misplaced diva-lounge-sofa-thing. He  _hated_ being gagged. He'd gotten almost used to being pushed and ordered around by beings stronger than him, but he could always talk back, insult somebody, make inadequate jokes and annoy the people around him. Restraining his voice was like stripping him of his last weapon. He muttered something through the fabric that hopefully sounded like “bitch”. 

 

She just smirked. Message obviously not received. Instead of somehow reacting to that, she made a graceful little movement with her hand and Tony was pushed down onto his knees. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his head hurt enough as it was already. Oh, and then she started  _talking_ .

 

“I strongly assume that you know who I am.” He raised an eyebrow and shook his head, trying to look mocking instead of as clueless as he actually was. “What, has Loki told you nothing?”, she asked with an expression of fake shock on her face. The inventor had at least remarks on the tip of his tongue about how Loki seemed to find horse stables more interesting than her, but maybe it was good that he was gagged, after all. “My name is Frejya”, she continued, “and I am known as the goddess of love and marriage.” Sweet. “Now, you surely wonder why you are here.” And this looked like some really stereotypical villainous speech incoming. Great.

 

There was one major problem with being gagged though: Tony had no way to distract himself from the distinct feeling of panic building in his chest. Usually, he just talked so much that he didn't have to think in between sentences, but that wasn't going to work now, obviously. He was here with a stranger who had deemed it fit to knock him unconscious to get hold of him and an apparent aversion against Loki. Speaking of which, he had no idea where Loki was, either, and the last time he had seen the guy, he had been in the middle of getting shot at, which... nah. Not too well.

 

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to listen to Freyja. Maybe she would give him some information to work with.

 

“... and he had the insolence to humiliate me in front of the whole hall”, she said, her voice tense with anger. Oh, he had apparently missed something there. “So you might be able to guess what I have you here for.” This time, he didn't even bother with not looking clueless and the goddess rolled her eyes. “Look”, and that was definitely exasperation in her voice, “since Loki is obviously so fond of you”, _wait, what?_ , “you will be the payment for what he did to me.”

 

_Wait._

 

_What?!_

 

Tony felt his eyes widen and tried to take a deep breath, but the building panic constricted his chest and made it impossible to get the oxygen he needed. This was some sort of really, really weird joke, wasn't it? How the hell had he managed to get involved in alien god rivalries in the worst way possible? What the hell had Loki done to her that she was so hell-bent on revenge? This was wrong, this was all wrong, he wasn't supposed to be here, he should be on a couch in Malibu with a glass of scotch, annoying Pepper with his carelessness and not sitting in a cave and doing... this. Being involved in this in any way. Even knowing about this was more than he wanted.

 

He stared at the cuffs without really seeing them and pretended that they didn't shake. Maybe it sounded childish, but everything Tony wanted was to go home. Was that really too much to ask for? He didn't want to be here, it was so wrong in so many levels... He didn't want to be a part of this. Not that anybody would care to ask him about that.

 

The hands of the man holding him down were still on his shoulders, but they didn't hold him down anymore. In an act of sheer defiance, he jumped to his feet and bolted towards the exit (or what he hoped was the exit, anyway). There were two things stopping him: Firstly, the chains around his ankles that didn't allow more than small steps and almost made him stumble right away, and even if that wouldn't have sufficed, somebody tripped him while another one tried to yank him backwards by his tunic. Both of the actions combined caused him to fall sidewards so his temple collided with the stone floor with an audible thud.

 

The impact on his already aching head caused another surge of pain and Tony felt bile rise in his throat. He cringed, pressing his hands to the gag and fighting the waves of nausea because he would very much like not to choke on his own vomit, thank you very much. He barely managed not to throw up, and as he was hauled backwards into a sitting position, the whole world spun around him in a way that was absolutely not enjoyable. He had to swallow several times and squeezed his eyes shut firmly, trying to curl in on himself while staying in a sitting position. Somewhere in the background he heard Freyja utter some mocking words, but it wasn't hard to ignore them over the pounding in his ears. There was the warm sensation of blood trickling down his skin and Tony tried desperately not to think about it because it made him feel sick all the more.

 

The sound of a sharp clap of hands made him open his eyes and look up at Freyja who had a delighted look on her face as she announced: “He is here!”

 

Tony turned his head – slowly, because everything else hurt – towards the entrance he had just tried to run out of. Before he could see anything (or anybody) though, his head was yanked back by his hair (which fucking _hurt_ , because it felt like his brain was bumping off the walls of his skull) and the cold blade of a knife was pressed to his throat. Great. Just really fucking great.

 

While the inventor still tried to get the world to stop its continuous spinning around him, a dark figure appeared in the edge of his vision. After blinking a few times, he recognized it as Loki and exhaled shakily. Loki being there was a good sign, wasn't it?

 

“Freyja”, the mage said, his voice strained like he was speaking through gritted teeth. “What is the meaning of this?”

 

“Oh, no formalities?”, the woman asked back, sounding fake and honey-sweet. “Aren't you going to ask my how I feel? What my dress cost? How I got my hair done? You are so good at these court's games after all.”

 

“This does not look like a game you planned well”, Loki stated with a coldness in his voice that made Tony feel a sudden surge of relief about the fact that he was not the one wearing the white dress and golden curls in here. Loki sounded like he was going to murder someone very, very soon.

 

“Doesn't it now”, came Freyja's reply. “Then pray tell, what do you think is my mistake? I have you where I want you to be, I have a bargaining chip, and I have men. What else would I need?”

 

“A bargaining chip”, the god repeated. “You took _him_ as a bargaining chip? Really? He is a _slave._ If I want one of those, I can always go out and get a new one.” Tony winced. That comment was... surprisingly hurtful. But well, that seemed to be what he was lately. An object to trade with or to throw away if it wasn't useful. But Loki... Loki had seemed different. He hadn't actually acted like Tony was a slave, he had been the first in a long time to treat him like a person. Apparently, that didn't mean anything.

 

“Oh”, Freyja said slowly. “You seemed so fond of him. But well, if that is not the case... why don't we dispose of him?” Fuck, no, that was not how he had planned to die! (Not like he had planned it, but whatever.) Tony gasped as the blade broke his skin, trying to squirm backwards but only meeting the broad chest of one of the soldiers. This wasn't happening, this...

 

“Stop!”, Loki interjected, taking a step forward. “ _Fine._ What do you want, Freyja?” Tony felt himself relax (slightly, but at least his muscles didn't feel like they were going to snap in half anytime soon) as the hold on him was loosened slightly and the blade was drawn away from the burning line on his skin.

 

“What do I want?”, the goddess repeated, every trace of fake sweetness and humour gone from her voice as she stood up from her diva-sofa. “What do I _want_?” She approached Loki and raised a hand as if she was about to jab him in the chest with a finger, but the prince backed away just enough to avoid her. “You know exactly what I want, Odinson”, she snapped. “After you spread your lies among the whole court...”

 

“My lies?”, Loki interrupted, sounding almost amused. “What lies? I have no idea what you could mean.”

 

“You humiliated me in front of all the –“

 

“Freyja, _dear_ ”, the god sneered. “If you decide that it is the right course of action to sleep with all the gods there are – including your twin brother – then you should be ready to bear the consequences.”

 

Freyja went white with anger. “Should you say a wrong word about Freyr again, I am going to _end_ you“, she threatened. “I want _you_ to bear the consequences of _your_ doings, of –“

 

“You _killed my son_!”, Loki almost shouted, advancing on Freyja with a look that said he was ready to strangle her with his bare hands. “You killed one of my sons, and you cursed the other. You had me burned by snake venom for _years_. What more do you want, you malicious hag?!” The goddess, who had backed away during Loki's outburst, swallowed and replied steadily: “I want my _personal_ revenge. I want you to admit you were wrong and that not only to me, but to the whole court of both Asgard and Vanaheim. I want you to feel just the way I did when I stood in front of the court with such accusations wrought upon me, and that as the goddess of marriage. _You_ are going to suffer just the way I did.” Her words dripped with venom and loathing that had apparently had time to brew for quite some years.

 

Loki was about to reply as he glanced at Tony who had followed the quick tosses and turns that the conversation between the two deities had taken from his position on the floor. He held the inventor's eyes for several seconds, seemingly biting back a retort he had at the ready, and then turned towards Freyja again, holding his hands out, ready to be shackled.

 

_What the fuck are you doing?!_ Tony tried to glare accusingly enough to transmit his thoughts even through the gag.  _Come on, I'm not a thousand years old and I know that the bad guys never let their hostages go after a thing like this, you're getting us both into trouble, you idiot!_

 

Loki gazed at him as if he was reading his thoughts, opening his mouth. _Yes, come on, give her hell!_ , Tony encouraged mentally. “Fine”, the prince said. An almost disbelieving grin appeared on the goddess' features at the same time that Tony let out an indistinct sound of protest through the muzzle. Loki ignored it and continued: “You wanted to know what your mistake was.”

 

“Oh, yes, do tell me”, she responded with a dismissive wave while one of the men stepped up with heavy, black handcuffs to bind the other god.

 

“Firstly, you underestimated me”, Loki stated lightly and Freyja laughed with a pointed look at his outstretched wrists as she retorted: “Yes, I see how much I underestimated you.” The prince didn't seem fazed by her answer as he continued: “Secondly, and that is an even more fatal mistake, you touched what is _mine_.”

 

From then on, things happened fast. In the moment where the shackles touched Loki, he dissolved into a blur of golden light. In the same second, something warm and sticky was splattered all over Tony's back and his hair. _Ew._ Loki's voice whispered into his ear: “Anthony, close your eyes.” Tony tried to turn his head, but there were hands on his shoulders again, this time gentle and soothing. “Trust me. Close them.” Hesitatingly, he complied, and soon the pressure was gone and there were sounds around him, sounds of bodies hitting the floor and other, more unpleasant things. He tried to tune them out as good as possible; it didn't really work.

 

Less than two minutes later, Loki's hands were back on his shoulders, this time from his front, and he was carefully pulled forward against the god's chest. He felt Loki's fingers undo the knots at the back of his head and shortly after, he was able to spit the fabric out and breathe in and out deeply through his mouth, slumped forward and let Loki hold him close. Exhaustion and the terrible headache caused him to shake, also there was something running down his back and blood crusting his hair, his own as well as that of the guy who had held him and whom Loki had... apparently killed before he could slit Tony's throat. Which was good, of course. The realization of how close he had been to death was even more terrifying and he was glad that Loki didn't see his face right now.

 

“I am sorry”, the god breathed into his ear while Tony still tried to control his breathing. He couldn't just panic right now, they were in a cave that was, judging by the sounds before, full of corpses and he was covered in other people's blood and had a concussion and had Loki just apologized to him?

 

“Why?”, he asked, muffled through the leather in front of his face.

 

“You should not have been pulled into this sort of thing. I should have watched out for you. I am sorry”, the prince repeated quietly, clutching Tony to his chest like he awaited that someone would try to steal him in the next few seconds. It was a little awkward because the engineer's hands were still cuffed in front of him and got sort of stuck between their bodies, also the blood on his back started to cool and made him shudder even stronger, but he didn't want to move right now. Right now, he felt – even if it was only a pleasant illusion – safe. Loki could've just gone home, but he had come back for him. It felt Tony with an odd sense of contentment.

 

But of course, Loki pulled back after a while so he could look at Tony. With a small, reassuring smile, he offered: “Come now, let us get out of here.” Tony just nodded and held his hands up, making the chains clink together. The god pulled out a small key ( _don't think about where he got that, don't think about where he got that..._ ) and unlocked the cuffs with it (no ripping apart this time), as well as the ones around Tony's feet. Then, he stood up and offered the inventor a hand, pulling him up, which caused another wave of nausea in his gut.

 

“Out of here sounds good”, he groaned, swaying on his feet and leaning heavily on Loki. “But _no_ fucking teleporting this time or I'm going to puke all over you.”

 

The prince chuckled quietly and replied: “Well then. If I may assist you...” And with that, he scooped Tony up – very carefully as to not move him more rapidly than necessary – and carried him towards the exit. The inventor was honestly too exhausted to mind, but he made the mistake of looking at his surroundings. It caused him feel even sicker than before.

 

Everywhere lay the corpses of the men Freyja had had under her command. The causes of their deaths were almost invisible; small stab wounds in just the right places. Loki's accuracy was scary. The goddess herself was bound with the shackles she had wanted to chain Loki with and was apparently unconscious, but there was no blood on her whatsoever. He had draped her onto her ridiculous lounge sofa.

 

Noticing Tony's gaze, the prince said quietly: “I told you not to look.” The inventor didn't reply to that. He wouldn't have known what to say.

 

When they stepped out of the cave, they were surrounded by trees and Loki glanced around in annoyance. Right, their golden teleporting beam thing picked up everything in its range. Maybe a bunch of trees wouldn't be so great, then.

 

Tony closed his eyes as the adrenalin started to ebb away while Loki walked through the forest, probably searching for a clearing or maybe the brim of the woods. He didn't want to be awake anymore, but he couldn't fall asleep either – for that, the throbbing pain in his head was far too strong. So all he could do was wait and not think about anything, because thinking hurt. As well as moving. He barely noticed how Loki stepped out into the sun with him and then leaned down a bit, announcing: “We will use the Bifröst now. Can you stand that?” The inventor could only mutter something affirmative in response, but it seemed to be enough for Loki because he turned his gaze upwards and calmly said: “Heimdall, open the Bifröst now.” Just a second later, they were engulfed by golden light that shone even through Tony's eyelids. The feeling of the pull and being tossed around in space was even less pleasant than before, but Loki held him firmly and so, Tony just pressed a hand over his mouth and forced himself to swallow down the sour bile rising in his throat for the umpteenth time.

 

He managed to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged, but just barely. He was glad when he felt gravity again and breathed in shallowly. The god leaned down again and asked: “Do you think I can move us directly to your chambers? I would rather not carry you through all of Asgard.”

 

Loki's way of teleportation was a bit more unpleasant than the travelling through the Bifröst, Tony remembered, but also a lot faster than walking for an hour, which he was really not sure he could stand right now. “Yeah,'cause that'd look weird, huh”, he muttered tiredly, still not opening his eyes. “Whatever, do it, but you can go directly to the bathroom. My breakfast doesn't like its place in my stomach, I think.”

 

“As you wish”, Loki replied, sounding more concerned than amused, and then the world became a nauseating swirl again and Tony immediately realized that his not quite serious request was a lot more serious when they arrived. He squirmed out of the mage's arms and opened his eyes to be greeted with two versions of his bathroom. Stumbling, he took a few steps forward and dropped to his knees in front of what he hoped was the toilet and not its hallucinated double, just in time for his breakfast to find a new home in wherever that stream of water led to. Distantly, he heard Loki's footsteps nearing from behind, and as he rested his head against the cool surface of the toilet, there where fingers on his temples. Originating from them was a pleasant coldness that chased away some of the nausea and eased the throbbing in his skull. Maybe magic wasn't all that horrible after all.

 

The prince looped an arm under Tony's and pulled him up to his feet with a quiet “Come on now” before leading him over to the sink. Gratefully, the inventor washed the sour taste out of his mouth as thoroughly as possible and washed the blood away that had trickled down from his temple to his chin and partly down his neck. While quietly assuring that he could take care of everything else later, Loki half supported, half carried him into the large bed. Tony felt his eyes fluttering close again already, so he was more than okay with that. Loki seated him on the edge of the bed and peeled off the bloodied tunic with only little help from the engineer's side, then actually pulled off Tony's boots (how many people could say that a prince did that for him?) and after that, he told the inventor to stop thinking out loud. It didn't really sound angry, though.

 

“Sleep now, Anthony”, was the last thing Tony heard before he was completely out cold.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so my Saturday-updates might turn to Sunday-updates because I barely get to write during the week so I usually do the chapter Friday night and Saturday. Hope you don't mind!  
> Here's an extra long chapter. Well, actually it turned out a lot longer and angstier than I expected, but... well. Stories do have their own mind sometimes.

 

For an amount of time he couldn't pinpoint, everything around Tony was a blur of blackness, voices and fleeting images. He slipped in and out of consciousness, but when he opened his eyes, he was sure that Loki was there more often than not, sometimes there were other people, too. Frigga was there with a concerned frown that became a reassuring smile as she saw him opening his eyes. He was pretty sure she said something, but he couldn't remember her words for all he was worth. At some point, he fell asleep for good, and surprisingly enough, he wasn't jolted awake by nightmares.

 

Waking was a hesitant process. Tony knew somewhere deep down in his sleepy mind that if he woke up, he would have to deal with a concussion that brought headaches, nausea and a bunch of other unpleasant side effects. Still, he _did_ wake up, and he felt...

 

...good.

 

Surprised, he blinked and opened his eyes. There was no stab of pain when the sunlight coming in from the window met his eyes and as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, the world did not do some crazy flips around him. He was... fine. Day four began not half as horrible as he had expected.

 

“Good morning, Anthony”, Loki's voice came from his right. He turned around to see the god critically eyeing a beautiful, white and silver dress that floated in the air in front of him.

 

Tony raised his eyebrows and quipped: “Wow, that for me? Thanks, I'm sure that it's gonna go great with my eyes.”

 

Loki turned towards him and smiled coldly as he responded: “This is for Freyja.”

 

With a disbelieving look, the engineer swung his legs off the bed and stepped over to the floating dress, extending a hand as he said: “Wait, so I'm not judging you here, but I kinda can't see how you give her presents after the shit she's pulled. I mean, I --”

 

He was yanked back by his arm just as he was about to touch the silken fabric and stared at Loki with wide, startled eyes as the mage hissed: “Do _not_ touch that thing!” His grip on Tony's arm was near bruising. “It is practically _drenched_ in contact gift. Although it will not kill Freyja immediately – that would be far too obvious – it shall be her end. It usually only kills after touching the skin for a few hours and then there is still a delay so it shan't be too obvious but you – I have no idea how it would affect you, you are mortal and...” Loki's voice trailed off as he apparently noticed how tightly he was holding on to Tony and he released his grip. His last words were spoken very quietly and with an almost anxious look at the inventor: “You are so... _fragile_.”

 

The inventor swallowed, surprised by Loki's sudden outburst and the unusually clumsily worded sentences that followed. He didn't manage to reply much more than a quiet “Oh” before the prince cleared his throat and declared, in a more controlled voice: “Mother and one of our healers have been here last night to take care of you, but since you are uncomfortable with being touched, I have not let them wash you beyond what was necessary for the treatment.” Subconsciously, Tony lifted a hand to the back of his head to find that there was indeed still blood crusting strands of his hair together. “The bath is ready whenever you are.” The prince finished with a gesture towards the bathroom door.

 

“I...” Tony found himself actually lacking something to say. “I... thank you, I guess.” Before the scene could become awkward, he vanished into the bathroom. It was warm and filled with steam as if the tub had been filled for quite some while. It would probably be pleasant to get all the dried blood off, he supposed. Ew, it was going to be all over the bedsheets...

 

Shaking his head, he struggled out of the leather pants. The tunic had been stripped off by Loki the evening before – oh _shit_ , he realized with a flash of panic, Loki had stripped off his shirt and he had been standing in front of him with his chest, with the _arc reactor_ completely bare and Loki had – Loki... Loki hadn't done anything. Tony breathed in and out deeply. Nothing had happened. Nothing _would_ happen, seeing how Loki had saved him just the day before. The god just didn't seem like the abusing type, and the worst thing he had done so far war asking questions, prodding and poking in his past, and being smart enough to figure out most of the answers himself. It was not that different from what Tony did – had been doing, he corrected himself, when he was back on Earth.

 

He discarded the leather trousers and made his way over to the bath. The hot water engulfed him and he almost moaned while sitting down on the steps that led into the middle of the tub. If this wasn't heaven, he didn't know what was.

 

Of course, the bitter-biting taste of the palladium still lingered in his throat and he was also a slave in a land that only existed in myths, but apart from that? Yeah, he was okay. Surprisingly okay. To avoid thinking about that fact too much and possibly start questioning it, he started to scrub the dried blood off his back and then out of his hair. Meanwhile, he thought about the events of the day before. Not the abduction and what followed, no; about the bridge. The Bifröst.

 

His way home.

 

Absently, he foamed up some of the herbal-smelling soap stuff. If he could get back to Earth, he had access to his workshop and could find a way to solve the palladium issue. The only thing he needed to do was convince Loki of it – and that couldn't be too hard, could it? After all, the god had resolutely forbidden him to die and he was only following that order. If he could only get to his tools – _and Pepper and Rhodey and JARVIS and Happy –_ he was sure he would be able to find a solution. He always did, after all.

 

With that idea in mind, he left the bath (because as relaxing as it was, when Tony Stark has an idea, he doesn't just sit there and wait till the bath runs cold – which seemed to be impossible with these Asgardian things, anyway. There had been times where he had bolted out of a room in the middle of a meeting because he had had an idea. He could do that; normal people would possibly be considered weird for it, but he was rich, so he was eccentric. Heh). While towelling himself dry he noticed a neatly folded stack of clothes on the floor next to the entrance that he hadn't noticed before. Well, that spared him the awkward situation of either pulling the bloodied stuff back on or going naked. Thank God for... gods?

 

When he re-entered his room two minutes later, Loki sat on the desk at the wall, a parchment before him and a quill – an honest-to-god _quill_ – scraping over it. Upon hearing Tony, he looked up with the same cold smile as before. It made the inventor shudder; this was not the Loki he had gotten to know during the past three days. This one here was calculating and ruthless and had, on the course of one night, gotten his hands on contact poison and a dress that he was planning to use that against the person who had dared to touch what he considered to be his. Without even showing a trace of hesitation or, God forbid, regret.

 

Curiously, Tony leaned over the desk to have a look at the letter that was coming into existence under Loki's pale, slender fingers. Frowning, he stared at the neat hand writing that filled the page in dark green ink and formed words in a language that the engineer didn't recognize at all, and he spoke bits and pieces of many languages. That was,  _ human _ languages. The single characters seemed familiar enough, although there were some that seemed somewhat strange ( did ' ð'  equal 'd'?), but their order just made no sense to him. He had ended up in some kind of Norse mythology world... thing, so maybe that was actual Old Norse?

 

“Wait another minute”, Loki said as if he had been reading his thoughts while he finished the letter and signed It with his name (Tony could make  _ that _ much) before holding a hand over it that emitted a faint green glow. Right before Tony's eyes, the letters shifted and rearranged until the letter on the desk was written in neat, curvy, green,  _ English _ sentences. Eyes wide with awe, he reached for it and picked it up to skim the letter over, his grin getting wider and wider with every word. Loki apologized for his impulsive reaction, hoped that Freyja would forgive him and accept his gift as a sign of his deep regret for all he had wronged her.

 

After finishing the letter, he handed it back to Loki who undid or reversed or whatever you did with spells that made the parchment return to its previous form. Tony watched as he folded it, carefully slid it into an envelope and sealed it with wax, imprinting the green patch that the candle had dripped onto the paper with a sign showing a snake biting its own tail.

 

“So”, he began carefully, “think she's gonna fall for that?”

 

“Of course she will”, the mage replied while blowing onto the cooling wax. “Freyja is vain and arrogant. She is far too narcissistic to see behind some pretty words. She is so very easy to placate.” And there was that smirk again.

 

“You said something”, Tony suddenly remembered and of course, his tongue was faster than his brain once again. “Back in the cave.” Loki raised his eyebrows in question. “When Freyja brought on her stereotypical villain-speech, you said something about your kids and how she had...” The sudden tenseness in the god's body made Tony's voice trail off. Alright, he could have been a little more sensitive about that. “It's not like you have to tell me”, he added hastily. “It just sounded so...”

 

“We don't talk about them”, the prince interrupted, his tone quiet and strained. He didn't meet Tony's eyes, instead straightened out the perfectly immaculate envelope. Okay then.

 

“Sorry. I didn't mean to – you know. I just was curious and – forget it. Let's change topics. I've got an idea.” Tony cleared his throat and tapped the arc reactor where it sat under his tunic. “About this.” Loki looked up and nodded for him to continue. “Well, the problem is the palladium, the element that powers this whole thing. Mostly. It's a bit complicated. Anyway, it's poisonous – as you might have noticed – and gets into my bloodstream, but I can't take the reactor out because of... reasons. So I have to find a replacement element, but I'm afraid I don't know which one. Might know how to find out, though.” He hesitated. Something told him that Loki wasn't going to like that last part.

 

“Well?”, the mage asked when Tony didn't continue.

 

But, he reminded himself, that was Loki's will after all. He had  _ ordered  _ him to do something. Taking a deep breath, the engineer rushed out: “I would've to go back home for that.”

 

As expected, Loki's expression immediately darkened as he demanded sharply: “Would you now. And, pray tell, why is that?”

 

Tony felt his heart drop and swallowed. This didn't look too good. “'Cause I got all my resources back there and it's...”  
  
“Because in  _ Asgard _ , the Golden Realm, home of the most powerful beings in all the Nine Realms, we do surely possess less resources than a mere  _ mortal _ ”, the god interrupted sharply, almost disdainfully, and, okay. Point to Loki. “You could have thought of something better, couldn't you? I am not letting you go, Anthony.” With that, he grabbed the envelope and stood up from the chair, did some weird stuff that made the dress disappear and then left the room.

 

Tony stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds, then he drew a deep, shuddering breath and slumped down on the closest surface available, which happened to be the chair Loki had been occupying just moments before. This was... this... was unexpected. Of course, he had known that Loki was technically his owner, but he... he had acted so little like the ones Tony had had before that...

 

_ Yeah, let's face it _ , he thought to himself.  _ You totally fell for that one.  _ The trick had been great though and maybe he had just wanted to see something good in Loki, had made him the positive thing he needed so desperately in his life right now. Naturally, that had been a huge mistake. But then again, what the hell had he expected? Loki was not some angel that had fallen into his life and the idea had been silly from day one. In the end, he was stuck here like he would be stuck with every other 'owner'.

 

_ Just with regular meals, your own room, people to talk with, clothes, a complete lack of senseless punishments... _ , a treacherous voice in his head whispered. Not helping. When it came down to what was important, it was the same with Loki as it was with everybody else. He was trapped and he was not going to get home (and that he had been  _ so _ close to thinking of Asgard as a new home just a day ago, just how naïve was he? This particular cage might be golden, but it was a prison nonetheless). 

 

Tony willed himself to slow down his breathing and eased the hold he had taken of the edge of the table, clutching the wood so tightly his hand hurt.  _ Slow, steady breaths _ , he told himself, breathing in and out. It wasn't that bad. He'd seen worse. He would just need to find out how to get to the sparkly rainbow bridge. And sneak past the all-seeing gatekeeper.  _ And _ learn how to operate that thing. Yup. Couldn't be too hard.  _ Well _ , he thought bitterly,  _ it's not like I don't have enough time at hand.  _ Unless, of course, he died of palladium poisoning before figuring out anything because yeah, there was that, too. He'd have to loot the smoking ruins that were his life for something pleasant.

 

Breakfast would be nice, for one. If he remembered correctly, the last time he had had something to eat had been the breakfast with Loki in Vanaheim, which had been yesterday morning and through Freyja's little stunt they hadn't even finished that. Looking out of the window, he supposed it was almost noon.

 

For another minute, he sat in the room contemplating whether he should get out on his own or not, but the gnawing hunger (and possibly the opportunity to do something Loki hadn't told or allowed him to do) didn't take long to win that battle. Soon, he was heading for the kitchen, the first place coming to mind. It wasn't like that was too difficult.

 

...If this fucking castle just wouldn't look the goddamn same in every Christ-forsaken golden hallway. It was  _ great _ . Craptastic. He was going to starve here before he figured out what the hell this dibshit of a constructor had thought when he had created this golden, sparkly, ugly monument of exaggeration and decided to damn all logical floor planning to hell, because this fuckity fuck of a – 

 

Just when he was about to run out of English swearwords and wanted to move on to Spanish ones (some of those were  _ really _ creative), there was the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway and for once, he gladly moved towards it. About time – apparently, princely castle wings weren't frequented all that often from people who weren't guards in fancy (ridiculous and golden) armours. Rounding a corner, he catches the eyes of the men and immediately hears them quietly starting to chatter among each other.  _ What is he doing here? – I have never seen him before. – He is probably a servant. _ Jeez, those guys were just as professional as kindergarten knights. Well, maybe they just sent the guards in training here since no intruder would ever get far enough to reach the princely quarters. Or they were all just really, really dumb, he thought while continuing to listen to the hushed whispers.  _ Is that not the prince's new slave?  _ Seemed like they were getting there.

 

“The one and only!”, Tony exclaimed. “And because of the”  _ stupid-as-fuck construction of this barbie castle  _ “most complicated architecture of this magnificent palace, I seem to have lost my way.” He was really picking up on the Shakespearian English here. “You wouldn't mind giving me advice to reach my goal, would you?” He even tried a British accent. It didn't sound all that bad.

 

After a short pause, one of the guards nodded and began a lengthy explanation of the castle's layout and how the different floors and wings were arranged  _ instead of just fucking pointing him in the right direction, for the love of God – no, not that one.  _ By the end of the lecture, Tony thought he had an idea where he had to go (and even if he didn't, he'd rather die of starvation than listen to that guy for even one more minute). 

 

He did find the kitchen after all, leaning against the door with all his weight to get the stupid thing open (because seriously, why had kitchen doors to be made of solid metal?) and slammed it behind him, which went by mostly unnoticed due to the busy clatter of plates and knives and whatever the hell else in the room. Also, possibly, because it was hard to slam a door heavier than oneself.

 

_ The best mood I've been in in months _ , he thought sarcastically while making his way to the table where he had worked the last time, slumping onto the bench with a totally fake “Good morning, ladies!” to the women who were already busied with various states in the production of – hey, were that cookies? Did they have stuff like that in Asgard?

 

“Anthony!”, a blonde woman (Brenda?) exclaimed with a large smile. “I heard you have been to Vanaheim with the princes? Tales have been told already, is it true that there was an ambush by Vanir rebels? That there was a battle? It was said that –“

 

“Well,  _ actually _ ”, Tony interrupted, not really in the mood for mindless chatter, “it was all pretty neat and friendly right up to the point where that sulky little blonde bitch”, and there went the Shakespearian English, “decided to take her fucking frustration out on –“

 

“ _ Anthony _ !”, Marianne's voice cut in as she set a bowl of the mushy berry-porridge-stuff down in front of the inventor. “I cannot believe you kissed your mother with that mouth”, she scolded with a light frown, sounding more like a mother than Maria Stark had ever done. Tony left that line of thought alone pretty quickly and just grumbled some response along the lines of “of course, ma'am” before stuffing his mouth with his breakfast/lunch/brunch/whatever. It was food, that was all that counted. Marianne seemed to pick up on his mood (well, it was probably hard not to do so) and actually rubbed a hand over his cheek like he was some child as she asked: “Oh, my boy, what has happened that you must scrunch up your pretty nose like that?”

 

Tony choked on the spoonful of purée he had been trying to swallow, forcing out an “Excuse me?!” between two coughs. When he could breathe again, he glared up at Marianne and stated: “I am  _ not _ a child!”

 

“Of course not”, she replied with a friendly smile and damn, she was horribly good at this sort of thing.

 

“I just... had a bad start today, that's all”, the engineer allowed (it certainly was one way to put it) and gazed down at his bowl. He was hungry, but had to force himself to eat anyway, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

 

“I see”, the cook answered, still smiling that motherly-gentle smile (he didn't see it, but he could very clearly hear it in her voice). “Is it one of Loki's moodswings? Don't you take those to heart.” Tony glanced up at her in surprise – he couldn't imagine that Loki approved of things like that being spoken out loud or even thought – and she winked. “He used to come here as a child when Thor and his friends made fun of him. Oh, and what shenanigans this little boy could think of.” Her eyes glittered in fond memories while Tony still tried to catch up with what she was saying. Loki? Pulling pranks on the kitchen staff? As if she had been reading his thoughts, Marianne added: “He has become more subtle in the course of the years, but he never stopped his little pieces of devilry.”

 

Loki trolling the royal court of Asgard. The image certainly had the potential to make Tony smile, even if he wouldn't allow that right now. Alright, at least not too much. Instead, he asked: “So he's sort of the local trickster? Are we talking about the same Loki here?”

 

“Of course we are”, came the reply. “Just you wait, he will be smiling again sooner than you know it. And then, you can ask him for a knife so you can shave again.” Flushing despite himself, Tony scrubbed a hand over the growing stubble on his cheek awkwardly. “But don't you try stabbing him with it.”

 

“Yes”, a brunette sitting next to Tony threw in cheekily, “he becomes all sulky when you do that.” The inventor, who had just started a third try to get some food down his throat, was coughing again and stared at her, then swallowed and shook his head. This lot was clearly... well. Unique was one way to put it.

 

After he had finished breakfast, his mood perking up slightly (but really only slightly; the events of the morning and the depressing thoughts following them still occupied his mind too much to be comfortable), he took over the tasks he had fulfilled the last time while the maidens showed him other steps for the preparation of the actually cookie-like things they were baking. He was fine with everything, really, as long as it kept his mind off Loki for now. He just... wasn't ready to think about that right now. Cookie dough seemed good enough of a distraction (especially since nobody minded or mentioned how he maybe dug his fingers in a little too hard, taking on the kneading more viciously than it would have been necessary). 

 

But of course, it couldn't last for too long. He was partly listening to the conversations around him, but more focussed on taking his frustration out on the poor, innocent dough ball in front of him. He barely noticed the hush falling over the room, only looking up when a two pale hands, thankfully attached to leather-clad arms, braced themselves on the edge of the table. The inventor swallowed and glanced up at Loki's frowning face. This didn't look too good.

 

“I believe we have talked about you wandering off on your own”, the mage stated in a dangerously low voice.

 

Tony swallowed again, this time past the lump forming in his throat, and responded: “You told me not to run away, which is perfectly reasonable for a  _ slave holder _ , but all I did was grab some breakfast and make myself useful, which is no crime. Or at least not where I come from.” He was dying anyway, he didn't need to censor himself. “Sorry for not sitting in my room like some good little boy waiting for daddy to tell him to come out and play, I told you I was trouble before you bought me. Deal with it.” There were several sharp intakes of breath from around him, but Tony ignored them in favour of returning Loki's icy glare.

 

“You are such an insolent –“  
  
“I  _ warned  _ you!”, Tony reminded him again, this time even interrupting the god in mid-sentence. A few beats of silence followed.

 

“Very well”, the prince conceded eventually and straightened himself. Tony tried not to release his sigh of relief too obviously, wasn't sure if it worked though. “Now come, I have made some arrangements.” The engineer hurriedly stood up from the bench as Loki turned around with an epic swirl of his leather coat (where had he been that he came back in full regalia?) and headed for the exit. Before he could leave the room though, Marianne stepped into his way and shoved a bundle of cloth – presumably containing some of the freshly baked cookie-things – against the prince's chest and pinched his cheek, despite being almost a foot smaller than him, as she said: “Come on now, boy, wipe that scowl off your face. A smile suits you  _ so _ much better.” Loki hissed a quiet “ _ Marianne _ ”, but it sounded more exasperated than threatening and the woman just gave him her cheeky, trademark mother-smile before patting him on the shoulder and shooing him out of the room, Tony following suit (but not without getting his own cookie bag pressed into his hands).

 

When the doors closed behind them, neither of the two moved or spoke. For a few seconds, they just stared at each other, Tony raising his eyebrows in a slightly expectant, questioning look. After a moment, he reached (very, very slowly) into the bag with his cookies without breaking Loki's gaze, grabbed one of them and pulled it out in slow-motion, slowly raising it to his face. As he opened his mouth, there was a short twitch to the god's lips, and when Tony bit into the warm dough without moving a muscle that wasn't required for chewing, Loki huffed (and he was smiling, no matter how hard he tried to hide that!) and was the first to turn away and get a move on. The inventor followed with a grin plastered to his face, although he wasn't really sure why.

 

They didn't speak on the way to wherever Loki wanted to go, Tony was quietly munching away on his cookies (they had had a more complicated name, but there wasn't much of a difference to actual cookies, so...) until the god, after dozens of crossed hallways and descended stairs that led into yet another identical storey, finally halted in front of a set of double doors and turned around to declare: “You talked about resources. In here you will find tools, ores, metals and anything else your mortal mind can dream of. Should you need magical assistance, I can either provide that myself or organize someone who will.” Tony was speechless and the god didn't wait for a response before pushing the door open, the metaphorical gate to heaven. Tony struggled to press down the urge to bounce up and down, because, come on now.

 

He was going to get his hands on  _ alien tech _ . That was every scientist's wet dream, that was the cherry on the cake, the – oh look, the lab/workshop/smithy/room wasn't even golden. This was perfect.

 

Probably grinning like a loon, he entered the large room. The walls were lined with shelves that held all sorts of...  _ things _ , things he needed to try and prod and poke and possibly make explode. He recognized some of the materials, but not nearly all of them, and he loved that. This was a chance to explore, to dive into a world no (human) scientist had ever seen. Almost trance-like, he wandered towards a shelf and reached out for the materials stored there.

 

“I take it you do not need any help as of yet?”, Loki asked from behind him and Tony shook his head, waving a hand into the vague direction of the prince's voice and muttered: “Nah, I'm getting along just fine, don't worry.” He was sure that there was a reply but didn't really catch it because hey, was that iridium? Stacked there just like that? If possible, his grin grew even wider. All of this was his to play with.

 

As it turned out, working here wasn't all that different from home. Sure, he had to do more things by hand, and for the first time in years he took notes on paper – or, to be more accurate, a roll of parchment, with a quill that took some time getting used to. All of it made him feel a bit like some sort of Harry Potter cosplayer – but well, professor Snape had left him the potions to play with, who was he to complain?

 

When the door opened again some time later, Tony was currently messing with the anti-protons created by a chunk of iridium and the effects it had on vibranium. They had vibranium here. And it was given to him to experiment on, so it probably wasn't raw. This was... this was like his workshop, just better (although he did miss his bots and JARVIS a bit when he found himself saying things like “Jay, put that in the folder for – ah. Right.” He had even ordered Dummy to hold the fire extinguisher and only noticed his mistake when he had already burnt his fingers. Old habits die hard, after all). So, that had went wrong, but if he could just...

 

“Anthony?” Ah, right. The door.

 

“Yeah?”, he asked, turning around and wiping some sweat of his brow. Loki stood in the doorway and Tony saw how the mage's gaze flitted down his body once before quickly settling on his face again. Oh, shit.

 

Hastily, Tony searched for the tunic he had discarded when the heat of the smithy had been too much to take while fully dressed. He had been alone then, it was okay, no-one there to stare at the reactor and the growing net of black lines around it... or possibly at other things, which was a possibility he didn't really want to consider. He had his back turned to Loki while snatching the tunic that he had thrown onto a table before and was just about to pull it back over his head as Loki's voice rang out from across the room: “What is that?”

 

Tony turned around, not pulling the tunic on yet, but holding it so it covered the reactor as he asked back: “What is what?”  
  
“That thing on your back.” The god made an impatient movement for him to turn around again while he crossed the room with fast, long steps. Hesitantly, Tony complied and waited until the footsteps behind him stilled. “Well?”

 

“I don't know about you”, the inventor remarked sarcastically, “but  _ I  _ don't have eyes on the back of my head so I have no idea what you mean. Care to specify?”

 

“This”, the mage said and there was a light touch to Tony's lower back that made him jump and whirl around with a hiss: “Don't.  _ Touch _ . Me!”

 

Loki regarded him calmly as he responded: “You asked me to specify the –“

 

“Loki, I am not  _ stupid _ !”, Tony cut in sharply. “And you're not either, nor are you blind. You know fucking well what that is, so could you cut out the unnecessary rhetorical questions? It's  _ not _ helping, you know?” With jerky movements, he pulled the tunic back on before he continued: “ _ Yes _ , it's a burn mark. I got marked. Not sure if you got that memo, but I'm a slave, remember? And you're not my first owner. Stuff like that happens, at least to people like  _ me _ , but that doesn't mean that you got to poke and prod at it until I snap!” With the last word, he slammed his hand flat onto the table next to him just to pull it back up immediately after. “Fuck!” Right. Burnt hand. And it hurt like a bitch. Clenching his jaw, he gritted out: “So, what where you here for again?”

 

It took a moment until Loki answered, his gaze cold and hard once again. His response was one quick word: “Dinner.” A little surprised, Tony turned towards the window to catch sight of a – no, not  _ a  _ moon,  _ two _ moons. God, of course, different world – this was a whole new sky for astronomy to discover, too! Oh, and apart from that... For how long had he been down here now? Loki had brought him here not too long after noon, so it was... around eight pm now? That meant almost eight hours in his new workshop, and it had felt like no time.

 

After a moment, he noticed that Loki had left the room while he'd been staring at the moon, and the inventor hurried to catch up with him. Getting lost again was definitely not on his to-do-list for this evening, thank you very much.

 

This time, the silence between the god and him was tense and uncomfortable. The only word he got from Loki was a clipped “Wait here” when they reached the prince's room. For a moment, Loki vanished in there and came back with a plate of steaming hot soup that he shoved into Tony's hands before he, quite literally, slammed the door into his face. The engineer stared at it for a second, wondering why his dinner had been in Loki's room. Had the god planned to eat with him?

 

Tony quickly discarded that thought while he headed for his own room. After all the snapping and bickering that had gone on between them for the whole day, no. Most likely not.

 

He ate without really tasting the soup and then changed into the soft garments hanging over the chair in front of the desk, coloured in the same dark red as his set of tunics, that were probably the Asgardian equivalent to pyjamas. Had those been here before? He couldn't remember; maybe he had overlooked them the first time and thus had slept I leather pants so far.  _ Great, Tony. _

 

Since he didn't feel the least bit tired, he stepped to the window and observed the foreign stars and the two moons above him. One of them had a reddish colour and was creepily huge, while the other, white and with an almost normal size for Earth standards, looked ridiculously small next to it. Did they have astronomy books here? All of this was new, practically laid out before him to be discovered. If he only had more time.

 

Eventually, he crawled onto the bed, snuggled up in his blanket and curled in on himself. He wasn't really tired, but didn't have anything to busy himself so he might as well try to sleep. It didn't even take him  _ that _ much tossing and turning.

 

_He is being held down and hears himself screaming something incoherent while the smell of burnt skin in his nose causes him nausea, combined with the blazing pain in the small of his back where the branding iron touches him. He struggles against the bonds and hands holding him in place, unable to discern one from the other, and then his whole body slumps when the iron is pulled back. He is gasping for breath, even the smallest movement hurts like hell, and he isn't sure if it is just sweat or if there are tears streaming down his face._

 

_ Next thing he knows, he is running, ignoring the flaring pain in his back and the voices around him. He doesn't know for sure where he's going, but it has to be up, up,  _ up _ and out of the cave. There is a light, he can see it, and it takes a frighteningly long period of time for him to get there, but he manages, stumbling and breathing heavily around the painful pulses that his raw nerves send out from around the arc reactor and his branded back. When he looks up though, he is met with blue eyes and staggers back incredulously as Pepper, clipboard and pen in her hands, asks: “Would that be all, Mr Stark?” He shakes his head slowly, nononono, she's not supposed to be here, Pepper is  _ good _ , she's the best thing that's ever happened to him, even if he never got to tell her, and now he has to watch in horror as she grows, her features twisting and shifting until it is Loki blocking the entrance of the cave, locking out the light and the  _ hope _ that is out there, snarling: “I am not letting you go, Anthony!” Then he continues with Obadiah's voice: “Oh, Tony, not the money. It's the company. But I guess a spoiled little brat like you wouldn't understand that.”  _

 

_No I don't, he wants to scream, explain it to me, but there is not a sound leaving his throat as he heaves for breath in panic, stepping backwards, stumbling and falling and –_

 

– jolting up in the bed with a scream that felt hoarse in his throat. Tony drew some flat, wheezing breaths, futilely trying to get the oxygen he needs into his lungs, _ he can't breathe, there's water and he can't get up because they're holding him, they _ ...

 

“Anthony”, a voice came from the bedside,  _ Loki _ , and Tony flung the pillow in the direction that sound came from, choking out a strangled “ _ No _ ” as he retreated as far as the bed allowed. He could make out Loki's features in the darkness, and now he was on the bed and moving towards him which was  _ wrongwrongwrong,  _ and with a panicked yelp he scooted further away and was suddenly hitting the floor, his blanket tangled around him in a messy heap. He curled up on himself, clutching his head and wailing a constant stream of  _ no no no no no no no,  _ but suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder that didn't belong there. He jolted back and snapped “ _ Don't touch me! _ ” at the person attached to the hand. No-one touched him. They couldn't touch him. If they touched him then...  


“Anthony”, the voice repeated, this time more urgently. “Anthony, calm down. It's me. There is nothing –“

 

“You're just as bad as them!”, Tony shrieked, his voice unnaturally high with panic. He was surprised he could manage a word at all, his heart felt like it was going to leap out of his throat at any second, thumping away with surges of adrenaline. “Stop touching me! Don't you dare –“

 

Loki cut him off, his voice harsh and sharp now: “Snap out of it, Anthony!” The angry tone caused the inventor to let out a frightened scream and he tried to pull the blanket over himself somehow, but it was yanked away and then he was pulled into a sitting position and leaned against the side of the mattress. It didn't seem to matter that he struggled against every movement, kicked and lashed out and screamed bloody murder, because less than a minute later, the god had him propped up against the bed and somehow held him in place which was not doing  _ anything _ to ease Tony's fear, because he knew what came next, it always came once they had him –

 

“ _ Breathe _ ”, came the next strict order. “In.” Okay, he'd breathe, if he didn't resist then maybe... “Out.” ...it wouldn't be that bad, he was... “In. Deeply.” ...going to stand through this, they couldn't break him... “And out.” ...they would never manage that. Nobody would. “In. Very good.” Not even...

 

Loki.

 

His eyes snapped open and for a moment, his breathing picked up again and he almost slipped back into the red, bloody haze of the panic attack, but then he remembered that it was Loki who had just pulled him out of it. There was no reason to be afraid. He was alright. He wasn't sure if that was what Loki was saying – because his lips were moving, that much was sure – or if it was his own mind told him so, but it slowly caused his heart rate to drop to a normal pace again. Alright. He was okay. Everything was going to be okay. (Not that he believed that, but that was such a reassuring sentence to hear, even if it meant nothing.)

 

“Are you with me again?”, Loki asked eventually. The engineer nodded, not trusting his voice yet, and the hold Loki had on him was loosing. Some part of his mind noticed that the mage hadn't touched him, but it was probably just that. The mage. Magic. He didn't even care if it had any logic anymore. The lack of pressure made his body slump and he drew his knees up to his chest to hug them tightly, curling himself up as small as possible.

 

Loki extended a hand towards him, apparently planning to pull him close or something like that, but Tony wasn't ready, not for this, not now, and his flinch was apparently impossible to miss since the god stilled in his movement. The quiet “Please, don't” that slipped the inventor's lips wouldn't even have been necessary.

 

For a few more seconds, there was silence, then the prince said quietly: “I assume you will want some time for yourself.”

 

_ No, please don't leave me alone, you can't leave me like this, I hate being alone, please stay _ , Tony's mind immediately begged, but the only thing he replied was a hoarse: “Yeah.”

 

The prince nodded, stood up with a quiet rustle of fabric and left the room on quiet, bare feet. Tony waited until the door clicked shut behind him, then he pulled the blanket up around himself, not mustering the strength to climb back onto the bed now. Instead, he settled for leaning his head against the mattress and (knowing for a fact that he was not going to find any more sleep this night) gazing out of the window. From this angle, neither of the two moons were visible and the bright stars against the black background of the universe reminded him so much of home that it almost hurt physically.

 

And if he cried a little for everything he had lost and was probably going to lose – it felt impossible to find a replacement for the palladium; even though he had had fun in the new workshop, he had also looked for something to resolve this horrible situation and found nothing. But well; if he cried, then it didn't mean anything; it wasn't like someone would be there to hear him anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update might be from Loki's POV again, meaning that it's going to be posted as a part of this series and won't be in the chapter notifications so... maybe you'll drop by next sunday and check ;)  
> Edit: Yes, there's a bonus chapter for this now, called "Just as bad". It's part three of the series. Have fun! ^.^


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you at least telling me where we're headed?”
> 
> “The library.”
> 
> “A library? Like, an honest-to-god library with books and paper and stuff?”
> 
> “Yes, Anthony”, Loki replied with a sideways glance, “that's what a library is. Congratulations.”

 

When Tony woke up, his back and neck were sore and aching. He needed some time to gather his senses while he blinked sleepily; apparently he had fallen asleep again after his panic attack of the night before. It didn't help him feel any more rested, though, since he had been having unpleasant dreams all night so his sleep had been more than uneasy.

 

The bitter, metallic taste in his throat had become a distinct, disgusting flavour that was impossible to ignore and just as he finished that thought, he felt nausea churning in his stomach and scrambled to his feet, trying to not get tangled in the blanket as he rushed towards the bathroom. He reached the toilet-fountain-thingy just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into it. One thing he was grateful for with these Asgardian things was that their constant stream of water washed everything away at the same instant it touched the surface so, at least, he didn't have to dwell in the smell of it until he found the energy to pull some lever.

 

Tiredly, he rested his head against the cool marble and tried to breathe as deeply as he could without stirring another wave of nausea. _Yay for day five_ , he thought to himself sarcastically and, as if on response, had to dry-heave again. He felt like just going back to sleep and not waking up again before noon and was contemplating to do just that as he heard the door to the main room open.

 

“Anthony?”, Loki called out quietly.

 

“No”, Tony croaked in a way of replying and returned to cooling his head on the rim of the toilet.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“No.”

 

“Would you come out so I can check on you?” Wow, patient today. Or just persistent.

 

“No.”

 

“Am I going to hear a different word from you anytime soon?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you bathing?” What?!

 

“No!”

 

“Then I shall come in now.”

 

“No”, Tony whined miserably, but didn't make a move when the door opened and he saw Loki's black leather boots moving towards him.

 

“Oh dear”, the god muttered and Tony snorted. _Oh dear_ indeed. “Come now, get up.”

 

“No.”

 

“Anthony...”, Loki began, beginning to sound annoyed, but Tony cut him off.

 

“Nononononono”, he muttered into the toilet.

 

“Get up. Now.”

 

“No. I'm dying. I am _literally_ going to die. I'm practically a dead man walking. Or kneeling. I don't have to do anything I don't want and currently, I don't want to stand up so I'm going to sit here until I feel like doing something else.”

 

“Great!”, Loki exclaimed and Tony raised his head in confusion to see the prince beaming widely. “Then we can go now.”

 

“Did you even listen to a word I said?”, the engineer asked slowly.

 

“Yes, and it was something other than 'no'. I believe we have already spoken about the rest of what I did not listen to”, came the cheerful reply. Tony was confused enough to let Loki pull him upright and lead him over to the sink so Tony could (try to) wash the disgusting taste away that had settled in his mouth. It tasted a bit like some small exotic animal had decided that his tongue was a great place to die on and had been rotting there for some weeks. The images that idea caused in his heads were doing nothing to improve the poor condition of his stomach. Neither did the glimpse into the mirror that he got when he looked up.

 

He was pale, sickly so, and there were dark shadows under his eyes; it was obvious that the last time he had shaved was more than five days ago and there was a network of black lines on his neck. Well, one of these things he could do something about and so he decided that if this was going to be one of his last days, then well, he could at least look good while dying.

 

Half an hour later, the palace kitchen got to see a probably really unusual picture as Loki and Tony (the latter freshly shaved, bathed and generally feeling a lot more human than before) sat on the table next to the maidens who were, as usually, doing stuff with dough that stretched from simply kneading to creating figures with it that looked so intricate that Tony would probably never dare to touch, let alone eat them.

 

Loki, having breakfast with him, in here among these so very... _normal_ people and contrary to what Tony would have thought, it didn't seem to be all that unusual. No, Marianne brought the two of them their breakfast, Loki thanked her politely and began to pick out all the berries to eat them first. The image had something so very domestic to it that it made Tony grin, even as Marianne fussed over how pale he looked and that he really should go out more often to see the sun (because that would help, sure) and a little tan wouldn't hurt Loki either, would it now? The god only rolled his eyes at that (but, for the record, he did it when he thought nobody but Tony was looking) and searched for another berry in his bowl.

 

He shot a fleeting glance at the engineer, looked around and then smirked mischievously. He did a little thing with his wrist, and two seconds later, there was a shrill scream from one of the women at the table. Tony turned in confusion and saw a roll of dough, shaped like a snake – even with a little split tongue – creeping over the table towards one of the servants. Loki watched it all with a delighted grin that was mirrored by Tony, right up until Marianne, standing unnoticed behind the prince, flicked the god's ear lightly. With a noise of protest, Loki turned around to glare at the woman who seemed to have a hard time not laughing herself.

 

“You need to stop pretending that I am still a hundred years old!” , the mage complained in a tone that Tony would have called whiny if it came from anyone but Loki.

 

“Of course, my dear”, was Marianne's reply, “as soon as you do so yourself.”

 

Loki huffed out a grumpy _“Fine”_ and the dough roll went limp.

 

“I was serious though”, Tony remarked when he was halfway through his bowl and had managed to keep everything in. “I looked through the stuff in the lab and did some...”, _experiments that mostly involved stuff exploding because damn, that was fun,_ “tests on the materials that I didn't know and I honestly can't find anything that would fit the bill.” Loki regarded him with serious eyes, but didn't chime in just yet, instead opting to listen. “It's just... it doesn't work. There's no replacement for that. I would need a completely self-sustaining energy source that, in the ideal case, is _not_ radioactive or killing me in another unpleasant way.”

 

The prince stared at his spoon thoughtfully and suddenly let it drop into his bowl as he stood upright and announced: “I might know what you are searching for.” He abandoned his breakfast (all the berries were eaten up anyway) and hurried towards the door. Tony scrambled to follow him, throwing a “Sorry!” at Marianne who looked at the two men, then at the food bowls accusingly, and caught up with Loki in the hallway.

 

“So we're going to do another trip through this labyrinth of a castle? Are you at least telling me where we're headed?”, the inventor asked. He had to move in a mixture of walking and jogging to keep up with Loki's long strides.

 

“The library”, came the god's clipped reply and Tony stopped for a moment before running to catch up again.

 

“A library?”, he demanded. “Like, an honest-to-god library with books and paper and stuff?”

 

“ _Yes_ , Anthony”, Loki replied with a sideways glance, “that's what a library is. Congratulations.”

 

“I _know_ what a library is”, the engineer muttered sullenly. “I was just wondering how it's going to be of any help here.”

 

“Asgard's library is not just _any_ library”, the mage explained. “It is the greatest collection of knowledge in all the Nine Realms and beyond, even superior to the Vanaheim's one. Even I have not read all the books in there.” The last sentence was spoken in a tone that let assume this was a really notable fact.

 

Tony understood when they entered the library. There were _four_ guards standing in front of it and they were nothing like those idiots Tony had encountered the day before. None of them spoke a word, they were all stoically staring ahead – right up until Tony tried to cross the threshold behind Loki. Two swords were crossed about half a centimetre away from his nose and he jumped backwards with a yelp (although he couldn't help but internally smirk at how classic that was). Loki assured them he was with him and then, Tony was allowed entry. And froze.

 

The room he was in, no, the hall, the _tower_ , he really couldn't tell, was huge. As in, really huge. Like, extremely fucking gigantically huge. It was round, there were bookshelves three times Tony's size lining the walls and stairs leading to new storeys which actually just were narrow gangplanks with beautiful wooden railings that allowed access to more giant shelves, and more above that and above that... It all was lit dimly by candles and, apart from the quiet shuffling of feet and the rustle of paper, everything was silent. There were surprisingly few people here.

 

Loki hurried up a flight of stairs that led to one of the upper levels and hurried towards one of the shelves without looking at the covers of the books around him even once. Tony would have bet his right hand (or the arc reactor – yeah, the reactor. He didn't need that to build stuff) that the prince would know his way around here with his eyes closed and his hands behind his back. The engineer just trailed behind him, feeling a little bit like a lost puppy or a fifth wheel as Loki stopped and pulled an ancient looking book from a shelve, then another and a third before dumping them into Tony's arms. Their weight made his knees buckle and he huffed before adjusting his hold and watched as Loki trailed a finger over the backs of the books and then chose another one, flipped it open to turn a few pages, scanning their contents, and then shut it again and placed it back carefully.

 

“This is it”, he declared and took two of the books from Tony's arms again, gesturing for him to turn around and go back down. The inventor complied and tried to descend the stairs as quietly as possible. It was the atmosphere that libraries just seemed to have, especially one like this, that made him fear to disturb the peace and quiet by breathing too loudly. Or, you know, his heartbeat.

 

Loki led him to a dark wooden desk and they set the books down. The god sunk down into a chair, took the book laying on top of the little stack and opened it. Then, he frowned at a candle as if it had personally offended him, and clasped his hands together. When he slowly pulled them apart again, there was a brightly glowing ball of light between them. Upon a gesture of Loki, it floated upwards and illuminated the desk. While Tony watched it in awe, the prince opened one of the books and began to skim through the contents.

 

After a while, the engineer's attention shifted towards the black-haired deity and before long, he caught himself staring. Loki was utterly absorbed in his research, green eyes moving over the pages with a fast pace, lips slightly parted in concentration and a stray lock of hair falling over his pale face. The image had something peaceful, holding a quiet and calmness that Loki rarely displayed. Distractedly, the mage raised a hand to brush the errand strand back. A little frown formed on his face shortly after, and another minute later, he snapped the book shut with a shake of his head and took another one of the stack they had brought down with them. While doing so, he seemed to notice Tony once again and blinked, slightly confused. It was... kind of cute, in a way.

 

“If you would like to, I could bring you down to the laboratory so you have something to work on”, he offered, a poor substitute for _Oh jeez, I kinda got absorbed in this and forgot you were there, sorry, am I covering up nicely?_ Tony didn't mind. No, he genuinely smiled at the god as he replied: “No, I'm fine here, it's...” _Extremely fascinating to watch you work because you look sort of adorable when you're not all princely and regal._ “...maybe better if I'm here. In case you find something. Which we'd need to discuss, you know.” _Because it's not like he can magically teleport himself or anything. Smooth, Tony, really damn smooth._

 

There was a short hesitation, filled with a questioning look from Loki, before he answered: “Alright. Do make yourself comfortable. I am here in case you should need something.”

 

“Of course.” _Remind me. Because_ I'm _the one who forgot_ you _were there while reading. Sure thing. Lokey-dokey – okay, Tony, no, this is taking it too far, definitely. Stop it._

 

Tony was usually easily bored, but he found that watching Loki had something oddly fascinating. That and the quietness of the library made him feel at peace in a way that was rare these days. He sat there silently and studied the line of Loki's jaw, his dark eyelashes brushing against his cheeks and the way his tongue flitted out to wet his surprisingly soft-looking lips – _Jesus fucking Christ on a stick, Tony, are you checking the guy out? This is your owner. This is the bad guy in this story. This. Is. Wrong._ The thought didn't resent him nearly as much as it should, which, in a way, set him even more on edge.

 

He was unbelievably grateful when Loki disrupted his thoughts with an excited little “Ah!”. He watched, leaning forward slightly, as the god turned a page, smiling, almost grinning and his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. Alright, he'd definitely found something there, and something good, judging by his expression.

 

That was, until Loki's smile dropped and he slammed the book shut with something that was definitely a curse word (even in a language Tony didn't recognize) and definitely too loud for a library. The god seemed to notice his mistake immediately because he quietly cleared his throat and stared down at the book accusingly, as though it was at fault for his little slip. Tony could have sworn that he was even blushing a little. Adorable. _Nope. Not adorable. Stop it._

 

“Found something?”, he asked unnecessarily, mostly to distract himself from his thoughts (and possibly to find out what made Loki's hopes build up so high that he swore in a public library, loudly at that).

 

“No. Yes. No.” Loki sighed and leaned back, still staring at the book in exasperation. “I thought I had found something, but it... I was wrong. We do not have it here anymore.”

 

“And there's no replacement for this mysterious _it_?”, the inventor dug in further. “Like, something that has similar qualities? Or a way to retrieve it?”

 

“None that I know of”, came the almost resigned answer. “It is not here.”

 

“Okay, firstly, stop going all Steven King on me and tell me what _it_ is, and secondly, you're really giving up just because you _don't know_? That's not how I got to know you”, the engineer pointed out, earning a surprised look from Loki. Now, he wasn't usually one for motivational speeches, but he was going to have a fair bit of words with Loki if he was really this easily swayed.

 

“I am sure there is no replacement for it”, the mage answered, but he sounded less hopeless and more careful while saying it, less like _We're doomed_ and more like _I might have talked nonsense there and you're about to call me out on it_. Tony liked that. A lot. “What I found in here was information about one of the Infinity Gems. They are powerful artefacts, but they were scattered across the Nine Realms to protect them from misuse long before I was even born, and no-one knows where to find them. The Tesseract would suit our –“

 

“Wait, Tesseract?”, Tony interrupted. “Like, glow-y blue cube with funny swirling light inside and all? Not even as big as my hand? Incredibly powerful?”

 

“Y-yes”, Loki answered, eyes wide in surprise at the inventor's knowledge. He found that he liked this look of bafflement on the god – he should surprise him more often with random scientific facts.

 

Before he could go down that road any further, he continued swiftly: “I know where it is.”  
  
“You know where it is?”, the prince repeated, actually leaning forward in his seat to catch every word Tony uttered, although they probably were louder than the appropriate library volume anyway.

 

 _Of course I know where it is, my father used the thing_ , Tony wanted to respond before a thought struck him and he said instead: “Shit. No. I actually don't. Not anymore. My father found it and told me about it when I was a kid and he was currently neither drunk nor going on one of his Captain-America-is-the-greatest-being-ever-to-touch-American-ground speeches, and while he was looking for good ol' Cap, he found the Cube instead. Experimented on it for a while, but it's not there anymore, I would know if it was. Have no idea where it is now, though, I was like seven or eight years old when he stopped using it and gave it to... well. No idea, really.”

 

Loki regarded him with a look which made it perfectly clear that the mage had understood only half of what Tony had just spilled out (well, how would a god know Captain America and Howard Stark – unlike what Howard had thought, neither of these two were gods) and decided to ignore that in favour for the bits that made sense to him as he slowly asked: “So you are telling me that your father found the Cube?”  
  
“Yes.”

 

“And then worked with it?”

 

“Yes.”

  
“And then gave it away?”

  
“Exactly.”

 

Had Loki not been a prince, Tony was sure this was the point in the conversation where he would bang his head against the massive wooden tabletop. Possibly several times. Instead, he just drew a long breath and quietly declared: “I _think_ , Anthony”, a short pause as though he was considering to actually say the next few words, “that your father is an utter idiot.”

 

Tony snorted a laugh and corrected: “ _Was_.” Before Loki got to respond to that, he continued: “But there's nothing we can do about that, so how about you play a little Google Translate for me now and show me that book so I can see if I can recreate that thing?”

 

“It is impossible to recreate”, Loki pointed out with a raised eyebrow (once again skilfully ignoring any reference he couldn't possibly understand), but he still reached for the book.

 

“I've done impossible things before”, the engineer stated with a shrug and pulled his armchair over to Loki with some effort so he could look at the book together with the god without having to turn awkwardly. The page looked surprisingly similar to an engineering textbook, filled with technical drawings and things he couldn't actually read, but looked like equations. He suddenly wanted to learn that language so he wouldn't need help to work his way through all the treasures and wonders this library held –

 

“We will have time for that later”, Loki stated and, upon Tony's bemused look, added: “You do think rather loudly.”

 

The inventor cleared his throat and hoped that the dim light hid his embarrassed blush (if it weren't for Loki's magical light-ball-thingy) as he said: “Right. Then, uh... let's get started, shall we?”

 

“Of course”, the mage agreed with the smallest hint of a smile on his lips and leaned down, pointed a finger to one of the equations and began to read out.

 

It could have been hours they spent like that, Tony wasn't sure. Loki spoke and explained in a way which made it obvious that he knew what he was talking about and wasn't just reading off the paper. Although it was apparent that he had not dealt with the Tesseract in particular so far, he was quick to understand everything to a point where he could explain it to Tony so it was easy enough to understand. The engineer, in turn, asked questions when he needed to, especially about the energy form that most Asgardian contraptions and devices seemed to use (he refused to call it magic – there was a logical explanation to it, Loki was currently proving that, and magic was not logical. Therefore, it was obviously science). It was, admittedly, a lot more complicated than he'd originally thought it to be, what with a _completely foreign form of energy_ that he had to understand over the course of one day, but what was he a genius for if not that sort of thing? It felt really damn good to be able to turn over new things in his mind, calculating, really having to try to keep up. Finally, there was something _new_.

 

They decided to take a break (or more like, _Loki_ decided that they were going to take one) when Tony's stomach began to growl for attention.

 

“This is it”, the god declared and closed the fifth book they had been working on, ignoring Tony's protests. “We are going to eat, and after that, we shall see about continuing.”

 

“But I'm not hungry!”, Tony lied in a whiny voice. Before Loki could respond, his stomach let out a growl that could have been a complaint. “Oh, _shut up_ , you traitor”, the inventor, knowing that he had lost.

 

“Come now, you giant man-child”, Loki ordered with a fair amount of amusement.

 

“Excuse me?!”, the engineer sputtered. “ _Man-child_? I'll have you know that I'm a perfectly reasonable and functioning adult.” The mage raised an eyebrow at him, causing Tony to tag on: “Should the need arise, that is.” Loki just smiled a bit wider, saying _Yes, of course you are_ more clearly than words could have. Tony rolled his eyes and huffed a grumpy “Fine, if we can get back to doing science afterwards” as he rose from his armchair. It caused a series of cracks and pops in his spine from the long time of being hunched over the desk, but he found that he had missed that. The feeling after hours on end, spent over formulas and problems, tying up loose ends all the way. It was wonderful.

 

He turned towards Loki, who regarded the inventor with a thoughtful expression clouding his green eyes, making the previously shining colour seem several shades darker all of sudden. Tony met his gaze, but the mage didn't seem to actually see him so he waved a hand in front of his face, throwing a careful “Earth to Loki, anybody home?” his way. The god blinked a few times and then nodded, muttering “Of course, let's go” or something like that under his breath before he turned around and made his way to the exit of the library. Tony followed suit, trying to figure out what had dampened Loki's mood all of sudden, but not finding an obvious answer. Well, he might find out later.

 

He expected to be greeted by far too bright lights upon exiting the library tower, but everything was surprisingly dim. His companion appeared to be equally taken aback by the fact that they had spent the whole day in there, because it was clearly night now or at least late in the evening. Also, his body reacted badly to standing up, as he only realized now. As if catching up on what was happening, it began to protest by making the world spin around him, causing the feeling of nausea to make a sudden return, only amplified by the bitter taste of the palladium that he had managed to ignore for almost the whole day.

 

His knees felt like they were going to fail him at any second and Tony stumbled, instinctively reaching out and clinging to Loki before he could hit the ground. The god turned around in surprise and immediately looped an arm around Tony's back, pulling him upright. The engineer leaned against him heavily and held on to the fabric of the tunic covering Loki's chest. _Dear Lord, we gotta look so cute_ , he thought sarcastically while taking deep breaths.

 

“Anthony?”, the mage asked, concern clear in his voice. “Are you alright?” Tony resisted the urge to point out how stupid that question was in favour of swallowing drily and a shake of his head. A very careful, slow one. “You need to eat something.”

 

“I don't think that's the problem”, he muttered into the fabric in front of him, inhaling deeply – everything that would distract him from the sudden dizziness was more than welcome and Loki really didn't smell bad. A bit like the leather that he wore almost constantly, also something herbal (similar to the washing lotions and everything that Tony had found in his own bathroom, too), and then there was something lighter, like... he couldn't put a finger on it, something fresh, very...

 

“You still need to eat”, Loki interrupted his thoughts. “I will bring you to your chamber and then –“

 

“Please, no teleporting”, the inventor cut in. “I don't think my stomach would take that too well right now.” A short hesitation, then he felt a nod above him and the prince bent down to pick him up. “Oh nonono, you're not going to carry me!”, he protested weakly, and he swore he could feel the eyes of the guards on his back.

 

“Would you rather walk, Anthony?”, Loki asked sharply and, okay, no. He wouldn't manage three steps on his own and he didn't actually know the people here, there were no journalists waiting to catch a picture of him being carried by a tall, handsome stranger ( _where did that come from?_ ) and no press to make a fuss over it. Also, still dying, so screw dignity.

 

“Fine”, he murmured and buried his head in the crook of Loki's neck so he wouldn't have to see if anybody else witnessed this. _Screw dignity_ had seemed like an easy concept before he had decided to act out on it.

 

 _Jesus, Tony, you're such a crybaby_ , he scolded himself and breathed in and out deeply. Loki was walking at a fast pace, but still calm enough for Tony not to be moved too rapidly. He tried to calm himself, eyes closed and clinging to Loki like a drowning man would cling to a barrel. It wasn't like he could make things much more embarrassing, really. Dying was a great excuse for embarrassing behaviour. A perfectly reasonable excuse. Also, he was starting to feel chilled and the only source of warmth around was Loki.

 

It was almost a disappointment when the god set him down. Tony hadn't really noticed the two of them entering his room, and as soon as his feet touched the ground, he slid down to his knees. With Loki away from him, the slight chill from before turned to cold and he wrapped his arms around himself. Where was this coming from all off sudden? He had been... sort of fine not even fifteen minutes ago, and now he felt like his head was going to burst with all the spinning it did, trembled from a coldness that only existed in his head and he could feel his heartbeat through his whole body, pulsing and pushing against his ribs as if trying to escape.

 

He had taken, what, twenty steps from the desk to the outside of the library? Nothing that should be physically exhausting, and yet his body couldn't take it. He was much worse than he'd originally thought and for the first time, he began to really, _really_ understand.

 

“I'm dying”, he breathed, his voice unsteady and disbelieving. “I- I'm seriously, actually dying. Oh god. Oh god, I don't – I can't do this, Loki, I have no idea what I'm doing, I'm going to die, I'm literally going to die. This is insane.” He was hysterical, and some part of him realized that that wouldn't do, that it wasn't helping, that he needed to stop and start to think clearly, but he couldn't. He was going to die here, in a world that wasn't his, away from the people whom he had thought he would spend his life with – no Pepper, no Rhodey, not even Obadiah – Obadiah, yes, the one whose fault all of this was, he wouldn't be here without him, why was this happening? “I can't do this, I can't do this, this is all wrong, why am I here? I don't want to be here, I don't want this, this is completely insane.”

 

“Anthony, _calm down._ ” Loki's voice reached his ears, the tone giving away that he was not saying it for the first time. The god had clasped both Tony's icy hands in his warm ones, holding them tightly, and was kneeling in front of him. “Look at me. Look into my eyes. Just like that. Yes.” Tony stared at him, his vision blurred from unshed tears. “Breathe deeply. You are not going to die, and trust me, I will see to that. But I can only do so much. I need your brilliant, sparkling mind with me. Can you do that?” The engineer stared at him, eyes wide and not daring to blink for the fear that if he did, he would release the tears he had been holding back so far. Swallowing, he nodded, slowly, jerkily, and drew a shuddering breath.

 

_Yeah, screw dignity._

 

With a sigh of defeat, he slumped forward and pulled his hands free from Loki's grasp to latch onto the mage's tunic, then loosened them again and wrapped them around the god's waist to pull him close so he could hide his face in the crook of his neck again. Because he was cold. Yes.

 

Loki stiffened in surprise for a moment, but then quickly returned the tight hug, not saying another word for now. Tony gladly used the feeling of warmth to actively slow his breathing and drive away to hysteria that had threatened to become a full-blown panic attack with all the lovely extras and a cherry on the top. When he still didn't stop shivering after a minute, Loki produced a blanket from somewhere and managed to wrap it around both of them, and slowly, Tony calmed down for real, felt the world stop its constant spinning and his heart rate dropping to a normal pace again. It wasn't perfect, of course not, what with the bitter palladium taste and the still gnawing hunger, but for the moment, he was okay, comfortable even. If it could only stay this way.

 

“So, we grab something to eat and then get back to work?”, he asked after a while, his voice low, but breaking the silence first, before he could get warm and comfy enough to fall asleep.

 

“I think you should get some rest first”, Loki objected just as quietly, neither of them moving just yet.

 

Tony immediately shook his head no. “Think about how I was this morning. Or, uh, just now. I don't know if...” He cleared his throat. “If I'd be able to do anything tomorrow. Gonna be hard enough like this. And it's not like that would be the first night-shift I've pulled.”

 

“But you have an idea of what to do, yes?”, the mage asked with a hopeful note to his voice.

 

“Uh-huh”, he muttered into Loki's skin and then pulled back reluctantly to look at the prince. “But I need your help. There's a lot of stuff that I'd got back...” _Home_ , he wanted to say, but it didn't feel quite right. “...back on Earth that I don't have here, and I'm not sure how to reproduce it. I'd find a way, sure, but I would rather have this done quickly, so, if you're in for it...”

 

“Of course I will help you”, Loki confirmed with a small smile. “I believed that you knew that.”

 

“Yeah, of course, I... yeah.” Tony swallowed and for a moment, he entertained the thought of just staying like this for a little while longer; straddling Loki's lap, huddled up in a blanket with his arms around the god and vice versa, close enough to feel his breath on his skin and –

 

– _holy mother of God, Tony, have you any idea what you're doing?_ A bit too abruptly, he stood up (immediately regretting it because his surroundings did the spinning thing again), causing the blanket to drop from his shoulders, eliciting a shudder. He covered it up by clasping his hands together while Loki got up as well.

 

“Well then, Lokes, I hope you're as good as you promised, because this is going to be difficult. Let's go.” He shuddered and added as an afterthought: “But I think I'll get something warmer to dress in first.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an arc reactor is built, Odin is furious and Fandral is surprisingly empathic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, sorry for being so late! Real life got in the way, my big brother is at the hospital right now and so I had to care for the little ones. It's extremely exhausting.   
> Also, this is not beta'ed yet because I didn't want to leave you waiting any longer! Hope you have fun, the techno-magic-babble was kind of difficult. But I won't keep you from reading any longer.

Tony was calculating, planning, setting up formulas and discarding them again, thinking about how far the Asgardian materials could bend the laws of physics. Or, to use a term he was more comfortable with, _expand_ the laws of physics. Most of it happened in his head, but he had borrowed a quill and some parchment from Loki to scribble down some notes, too. Maybe for the Hogwarts-feeling of it, too. Nobody needed to know that though. Meanwhile, he advised Loki around through the workshop that had already taken a distinctly Tony-like character with tools and materials spread all over the workbenches.

 

_Could you bring me that stuff over there? Yeah, the glowy one. No, put that there, please. Hey, you know what that is? Think it could be useful? Explosive? I love explosive! Okay, okay, not in my chest, you're right. Set that one down over there. What does the green one do? Do you know anything about the reddish stuff? How does it react with this one? I think it might be a substitute for the palladium if we put some of that in. Jesus, I need a particle accelerator. Uh, is that here meant to sparkle?_ And so on.

 

It was sort of funny, sitting on a table, wrapped in a fuzzy, warm coat that belonged to the god, and telling the god where to put stuff. He was ordering a god around here, a god and a prince and possibly the most sly and dangerous being he had met so far, because yes, Loki was all that – but he was also a witty, sassy bastard who loved playing pranks and was easily the kindest person Tony had encountered in months. So yeah, he wasn't all that horrible. Not like Tony had first thought (and who could blame him, really? It became sort of a default setting when you were passed from owner to abusive owner. When you assumed the worst, there was at least no chance of being surprised).

 

Or, well, there actually was. Loki was always in for a surprise. Tony had, of course, long since realized that Loki was no angel. No, he was far from it, that was sure; he murdered in cold blood when things didn't go his way (which, he'd admit that, was a really nice phrasing for the Freyja Incident. And yes, it was definitely capitalized in Tony's head) and he was not above manipulation. The god of lies, chaos and mischief, from what the engineer had caught. No, that was not some heavenly angel sent from whatever instance was up there.

 

But that wasn't what Tony wanted. It wasn't what he had expected. It wasn't what he had hoped for – when he had dared to hope, that was. He hadn't wanted an angel because he would never be able to even remotely live up to the expectations that a perfect being would be holding out. No, Loki was somebody he could deal with – he wasn't perfect, not innocent or anything, but he wasn't bad either. He was, apart from the whole god-and-prince-of-the-world-thing, a normal person. A kind person. With his... uh, flaws (cold-blooded murder and sly, sneaky deceit with a fucking _dress_ ), sure, but not a villain.

 

“Anthony?” He blinked a few times and noticed that Loki was standing in front of him, a concerned frown on his face. Huh, he'd drifted off a little there.

 

“Yeah, 'course, we gotta do the... thing”, he muttered and stood up from the table. “Right then. I'm afraid I'll have to do the casing myself.” Pulling the cloak tighter around himself, he strolled over to the anvil and took a long look at the tools and metals lying on the table next to it. With a deep breath, he shrugged off the cloak and folded it neatly, instantly missing its warmth, and stepped closer to the forge so the fire could compensate for it. Time to get to work, then.

 

The metal was easily bent to his will under his hands. He gave it another shape than the prototype he was wearing in his chest, because this one would be holding energy in an entirely different way if his calculations were even close to being right. After some consideration, he gave it a triangular shape – he could still alter that, should the need arise. It took him mere minutes to get into it again – after all, this was something he had done all his life. It felt a bit like coming home. He wondered whether Loki knew how much this laboratory meant to him after just one day, and then it stirred another question: when he managed to build the reactor, would he be allowed to keep this? The time down here? Loki had been generous before, but Tony didn't want to stretch his goodwill with asking for too much. With a small shake of his head, he dismissed those thoughts and focussed on getting even the smallest bits right, not all that easy with his hands as unsteady as they were, but not impossible. Nothing he hadn't done before.

 

All in all, finishing the casing was a piece of cake. From here on, things were going to get complicated. Well, at least he was warm again, the fire had done a great job with that. Now, he would need to figure out which elements would be most fitting to reproduce the energy pattern of the Tesseract. Some of these materials were extremely promising, he just needed to find out which ones would work together without being poisonous or radioactive or explosive. Yeah. Easy.

 

It was not fucking easy, especially since he was tired and exhausted, but not impossible. It couldn't be impossible. Basically, this was just what he had always done, just with less technical equipment and more god by his side. He could do it again. (Although it was a real challenge to work without a computer when he was used to having one all the time – he caught himself several times when he was about to tell JARVIS to google something or to file this or that piece of information away for later.) All he had to do was –

 

“Wait!”, he exclaimed, his head snapping up as he dropped a chunk of metal to the floor. “Jesus, it's so _easy_! I've got all the Tesseract stuff here, I'm so blind, how did I not see this? My god, I can't use the old reactor schematics, this is something completely different. Ancient magical artefact or not, it's been created somehow and we've got all the materials here, all we have to do is recreate what people have already done before us!”

 

Loki cleared his throat and pointed out quietly: “Anthony, as much as I loathe to admit it, I think you might be overestimating me. The Tesseract is one of the Infinity Gems. They have been created by mages far more powerful than me and I don't think...”

 

“Ah, stop that”, Tony interrupted. “I've got faith in you. The way you explained magic to me in Vanaheim, I doubt that this is beyond your capabilities. You just need to grasp the concept we need here, it's really not that hard. Well, maybe it is, but let's give it a try, okay?” The last sentence had sounded more desperate than he had intended it to, but he didn't see another way out. Loki couldn't give up if Tony didn't, right? It would only be fair if he gave it a try. Anything but doing nothing.

 

The prince seemed doubtful, but nodded. “Explain your plan to me, then.”

 

“O-kay”, he began, clasping his hands together as he thought about the best way to explain a particle accelerator to an ancient alien space viking god. “I think we've got all the materials now, the problem is how to get 'em to fuse to create a new one. I know how to do it, but there are some, uh... difficulties here. Like, you know, electricity and all that, also it's kind of difficult to just set a particle accelerator up without the equipment I'd usually have. I think I could manage, somehow, but for that I would have to build one and do actual plans on _how_ to build it and the separate parts, and well, that could take a while, even for me. Meaning, at least three days and... yeah, you know the issue. So if you're able to kind of do the same thing with your magic, that would be extremely helpful.”

 

Loki regarded him for a moment and then asked slowly: “What does a particle accelerator do?” Which was not as good as _Okay I'm totally in_ , but a lot better than _I don't think I can do this_ , right?

 

So Tony explained. He wasn't sure how long it took, but the god had told him one thing or the other about magic before their trip to Vanaheim had gone south and he tried to elaborate it in a way that would allow Loki to understand it so he could use it. Do it. Whatever. Magic was complicated. And how did you explain the finer workings of atoms and all to a Norse deity?

 

But well, Loki wasn't stupid. He grasped new concepts with an ease that could have made Tony jealous if he wasn't a genius himself. The prince posed exactly the right questions and learned things other people would have needed weeks or months to understand over the course of a few hours next to a forge and surrounded by metals and tools instead of books and graphics. It was incredible.

 

After an indefinite amount of time (it was definitely night outside now, but Tony honestly couldn't tell the exact time what with the two moons and everything), Loki grabbed some scraps of metals, random materials, and excused himself for a moment, just teleporting away. Before the engineer had the time to get too confused though, he was back with an armchair that Tony recognized from Loki's own room. He laughed upon seeing it, but it quickly turned into a long yawn; still, he declined Loki's offer to bring him back to his room. This was far too interesting.

 

He huddled himself into the cloak once again and sat down on the table, watching Loki in... fascination, not awe, yup, as he randomly chose two materials from the stack he had piled onto a table next to him and took each of them into one hand. For about a minute, he just examined them like they told him something when he looked closely enough, then Tony leaned forward and silently _oh_ 'ed as the small metal chunks were enveloped in a weak, green light. It illuminated Loki's features together with the fire of the forge and the mage's look of utter concentration only deepened as he slowly brought his hands closer together until they were right next to each other.

 

Tony felt himself openly gape as Loki proceeded (not that the god would pay him any attention to notice that). The small metal chunks began to hover about an inch above his palms and, right in front of the engineer's eyes, began to melt rapidly until the uneven scraps from before had become two small balls of molten metal, perfectly shaped and (luckily) not dripping onto his hands or anything. Admittedly, that was nothing like a particle accelerator, but Loki was apparently still experimenting himself and – Jesus Christ, he could melt metal in his hands! That was... Tony didn't even have a word to say what that was. He just silently watched as the prince brought his palms and therefore the metal balls together, causing them to flow into each other, practically fusing.

 

When Loki was done scrutinizing and frowning at the result – a bigger metal ball with a colour that was probably a mixture of both of the previous ones – he moved it over to the table and the green light vanished, causing the ball to drop. For a split-second, Tony expected it to splash all over the table because hey, molten metal and all that? But it just dropped onto the surface with a solid _clonk,_ rolled from the table to drop onto the floor with another thud and rolled a few feet into Tony's direction until he hopped down from his table and stopped it with his foot. Carefully, he extended a hand and touched the surface of the ball quickly before pulling back and then blinked. It was cold. Just like that. Molten just seconds ago and now cold.

 

“How did you _do_ that?”, he asked while picking the surprisingly heavy thing up. “I mean, you just – it just melted right in your hand without dripping down or something, that's fucking amazing.”

 

“May I introduce myself?”, Loki questioned, causing Tony to look up in confusion. The god had risen from the armchair and taken a step away from it; now he was spreading his arms in a dramatic gesture and intoned: “I am Loki of Asgard, god of lies, mischief and”, he bowed and Tony yelped and jumped backwards as the mage just _caught fire,_ like some sort of human torch or something, “of fire.”

 

“Wow”, the engineer commented eloquently. “That's... quite a bunch of titles. Or characters. You know.”

 

With a smug, but mostly amused grin, the prince replied: “Those are not even half of them.” The fire disappeared just as fast as it had come to life and Loki made a show of smothering one last little flame in his palms before he turned serious again and threw a glance at the metal ball in the inventor's hands. “But it will not work like that. This, you could do in the smithy, too. I need to go _deeper_.” Staring at the pile of metals on the table next to himself, he took a deep breath. “I will figure this out.”

 

Leave it to the god in the room to try figure out atoms and shit all by some glowing green light. Tony huddled himself into the cloak and was content to lean with his back against a wall (or maybe just too tired to move out of that position) while he watched Loki do... his thing. He really needed to find out more about that... soon... whenever he wasn't so exhausted. Yeah. Definitely going to do that... sometime.

 

He only noticed that he had fallen asleep when a loud clattering sound woke him up with a start. Someone (well, who could that be?) had wrapped him up in the coat and laid him down on the floor at some point and the only reason for him to wake up was that Loki had dropped something onto the floor. Blinking against the light that fell into the room from the windows (it was morning and he hadn't had a single nightmare?), Tony propped himself up onto an elbow and looked at the god who was just picking up a piece of metal. He stared at it with wide eyes and it looked like he had just realized something, judging by the way his expression brightened, so Tony decided not to interrupt him right now. Instead, he tried to clear the haziness of sleep from his mind (and _damn_ , his head hurt like fuck and he really needed something to drink because that taste was disgusting) and greeted day six with the question _Did Loki just pull a night-shift to figure out how to help me?_

 

He watched silently as the prince reached out over the table for the vibranium and that other element (something Asgardian with a name he couldn't memorize, but then again, their vibranium had another name here, too, while being the same thing, so it didn't really matter) Tony had chosen to become the new core of his reactor. 

 

In theory, this was easy. He could calculate new elements,  _ this _ new element, perfectly well. It was a simple addition, adding one to the highest atomic number et cetera. That was not the problem. The difficulty was that he needed, or was at least pretty sure that he needed a particle accelerator to make the element actually  _ exist.  _ Well, a particle accelerator or a Loki, apparently. He still wasn't sure how the mage was going to do it, although the principle was actually not all that complicated if you put it plainly: You smash the nuclei of particles together, and sometimes enough of them stick together that a new element is created with a new nucleus of an element that's heavy enough to be stable. Now go do that without an LHC – but okay, he was getting really hung up on that, wasn't he? Trust Loki to do the magical things. He'd try to understand how that worked later.

 

Pulling the coat up around his shoulders again, he squirmed a bit to get more comfortable while the god's hands started to glow,  _ really _ glow in a green so bright that Tony had to squint and look away because otherwise, he felt like it could just burn his retinas away. This was definitely looking more like what he needed than the molten metal balls from the evening before and he sort of regretted that he had slept through Loki figuring out how to do stuff like that with his magic. It made him feel an odd kind of smugness (pride?) because he could teach something to a being that was hundreds of years old. 

 

A sudden hiss from Loki made him look up and he saw the prince sticking a finger into his mouth with a frown and an accusing glare towards the materials that he had dropped to the ground. Oh, there was that.

 

“Did I mention”, Tony began and cleared his throat when he noticed how raspy his own voice sounded, “did I mention that if you use a particle accelerator, that releases a pretty great deal of radiation? Meaning, if you don't shield yourself somehow, you'll be hit by atoms that are flying around which... oh shit, I think that's dangerous. They usually prevent that sort of thing by using magnets so they can keep the particles in check. Just sayin'.”

 

Loki stared at him for a moment before he turned around fully and replied: “Good morning to you, too. Thank you for telling me about that so  _ early _ .”

 

The engineer grinned with a shrug as he responded: “In my defence, I was asleep and that wasn't actually part of my plan. I thought I'd tell you when you'd gotten the hang of the general thing, but that was kinda difficult while I was all cosy and lovely in dreamland. Which you did now, as I see, congratulations by the way. Humanity needed centuries to figure that one out.”

 

“I had a good teacher”, the prince answered with a wink and picked the materials up again. “All I have to do is prevent the particles from leaving the area I want them to be in, right?”

 

“You got it, Sherlock”, Tony confirmed and rubbed his eyes to get rid of the sleepy dust.

 

“Holmes was a detective, not a physicist”, the mage muttered distractedly while the green light of his magic already enveloped his hands again. It took Tony a moment to catch up on what he had just said and when he did, surprise silenced him for some more seconds. Then, he gathered his wits (sort of) and asked: “Wait, you know Sherlock Holmes?” Loki nodded, still absorbed in whatever energies he was manipulating at the moment, while he replied in the distracted tone of someone whose mind was somewhere else entirely: “I travel the Nine Realms a lot and I most enjoy reading. During my last visit to Midgard, I discovered the books as well as their author. Sir Conan Doyle made for the most enjoyable company.”

 

Tony swallowed and was glad that the prince was too absorbed in his work to notice his slave's reaction. This was... it felt like a punch to the gut. Loki had been to Earth. Midgard. Whatever. And... when had Arthur Conan Doyle died? Nineteen-something? Nineteen-thirty, perhaps? That was not even a hundred years ago. He'd said that he enjoyed travelling, so there was a real possibility that he would visit Earth again, right? If he was able to convince him to take Tony with him... 

 

The engineer drew a shuddering breath and fisted his hands in the furry cloak. He felt the sudden urge to punch something, not out of anger, but frustration. Loki had probably not even noticed, but he had just dangled Tony's home, his old life, in front of his face like a toy for a cat. And Tony had totally taken the (albeit unintentional) bait.  _ What kind of god have I offended to deserve this? _ He was  _ so _ close to coming home, closer than he had ever been, what with the rainbow bridge and all, and at the same time still as far away as he could possibly be in another galaxy. 

 

Sighing, he thumped his head against the wall behind him. He should just give it up already – but no, he couldn't do that, there was no way he was going to surrender. His own mind was all he had, after all. If he was going to go down, then it was going to be screaming, not silent like this. Loud and with an explosion, just the way his life had always been.

 

He would never admit to how relieved he was that he could distract himself with watching Loki work. The god held his hands about a foot apart, palms facing each other, and had created a round sphere (probably some sort of shield) around the materials that he was supposed to fuse via the magical particle accelerator thing he did. Tony still wasn't sure whether he wanted to accept the existence of magic and figure it out that way or if he wanted to try explaining it with everything he knew about science. The latter was looking more and more unlikely as he stared at the growing light between Loki's palms, green and glowing – and then, with a flash of far too bright light, the colour became a blindingly bright blue, almost white, and he heard the mage gasp while Tony held an arm up to shield himself from the light. There was no sound at all, apart from Loki's laboured breathing. 

 

Then, as the brightness subsided, there was a breathless laugh from the god and Tony squinted to see Loki staring at a small, blue sphere that glowed brightly in his hands. The light was reflected by the thin sheen of sweat on the prince's forehead – working magic was apparently not as easy as it looked. 

 

Loki glanced at him with a delighted smile and turned towards the table where the casing lay that Tony had made the evening before. He lowered his hands and set the small piece of... thing (it was a new element, it didn't have a name yet, okay?) into the triangular centre of the reactor carefully. Tony scrambled to his feet and fought off the dizziness that came with the sudden motion as he steadied himself on the table next to Loki and grabbed the cover he had prepared the day before, as well as one of the finer tools, and began to work on covering the new reactor with the... element in it.  _ Badassium _ , he mused.  _ Starkium  _ certainly had a nice ring to it. But he'd have to give some credit to Loki for inspiring the idea in the first place.  _ Lokium _ sounded just weird though. Maybe he'd just stick with badassium. 

 

“You are unable to be quiet while thinking, aren't you?”, Loki inquired with a distinct note of humour in his voice.

 

“Brain-to-mouth-filter”, he answered plainly. “I should really get one of those.”

 

“I rather like you as you are”, the prince objected. Tony stilled in his movements to stare up at the god in wide-eyed surprise. What had that just been? “Oh, stop looking at me like that!”, Loki snickered now, shaking his head slightly. “I am not Fandral, if that is what you are thinking. I do not just jump anybody who seems vaguely likeable, so you may take that as a compliment and finish your work now.”

 

Tony gaped for another second before he nodded quickly and looked back down onto the reactor. Then, his head whipped back up and he protested: “Hey, that wasn't even what I was thinking!” The mage was outright laughing now, but again, it was without malice. Just genuine amusement. Granted, it was on Tony's expense, but it wasn't like the inventor didn't make an inappropriate joke now and then and every single one of those was worse than this here. “You go on and laugh”, he muttered, a smile tugging at his lips despite his embarrassed blush. This one was his fault, clearly. 

 

By the time he was finished and held the new reactor up in front of himself – badassium, definitely – Loki had calmed down and watched the engineer's every movement. In an almost reverent voice, he whispered: “It feels _ beautiful. _ ” He was right: after only five minutes, the small device had taken a pleasantly warm temperature, not even nearly warm enough to hurt, but lacking the usual cold of metal. He suspected that Loki meant something else though.

 

“Feels?”, Tony repeated with a glance towards the god. Did magic actually enable the prince to feel energy radiation? “I thought you'd know how it feels, because of the book and all?”

 

“Not quite”, Loki replied with a shake of his head. “You cannot capture this sort of thing. It is like describing the taste of a certain meal. It can give you an idea of what to expect, but it will never reach the real experience.” Which... sort of made sense, actually. “What do we do now?”

 

“ _ Well _ ”, the inventor said, stretching the word, “now comes the... slightly uncomfortable part. How big are your hands? Because as wonderful as magic is, I'm not sure that I want your levitating-spell-thing anywhere near the magnet in my chest. Who knows what that'd do.” With a slightly questioning look, Loki held up his hands, sleek and slender. “Okay. I can work with that.”

 

Taking a deep breath (as much as he hated it, he couldn't do this without help), Tony wiped a table clean pretty carelessly and sat on its edge as he handed the new reactor to Loki and pulled his tunic over his head, baring his chest, mindful of every scar and cut that Loki would see and shuddering at the sudden cold. Better get this over with quickly. With a suddenly shaking hand, he grasped the old reactor and twisted it so he could take it out of its housing. The resulting feeling of vulnerability was the strongest Tony could imagine – crush this little thing, reach into his chest, Loki could do anything right now.

 

But he wouldn't.

 

“Alright. I need you to connect this wire”, he gently tugged at one of those that still stuck in the back of the palladium-powered model, “to the adapter on the back of the reactor you're holding in your hand right now and pray that it fucking fits because to be honest, I improvised that part. Stuff like that doesn't seem all that common up here so I needed to make my own. Whatever. That's the most important part, and then there's this shorter one and I'd really really ask you not to let that one go too early because there might be people who like that sort of thing, but I'm not into electroshocks.” He breathed in and out deeply. “Let's get this over with.” Before he could over-think anything, he laid down onto the table and stared at the ceiling, swallowed and closed his eyes. 

 

Loki's warm hand brushed against his shoulder and Tony willed himself to relax as he felt that same hand take the old reactor from his grasp and carefully unplug the wires. With the quiet sound of metal on metal, it was set down beside him and he kept his eyes squeezed shut tightly as he felt and heard Loki work on the most intimate part of the engineer's body (and what are _ you _ laughing at, huh?) with care and caution. 

 

“Done.” With that one word, all air left Tony's body as he relaxed. That might just have been the longest minute of his life. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Not much difference yet”, he admitted, but relief was evident in his tone, he knew that. “The palladium has get out of my bloodstream first, but now that there's nothing new adding up on what already is there, my body should manage. So, actually...” He opened his eyes and felt a grin spread on his face as he sat up. “...we did it, didn't we?” The belated realization caused a sudden rush of glee and giddiness. “My god, we actually did it. I'm alive. Jesus Christ, I'm alive. I'd say I'll start believing in god now, but I already pretty much believe that you exist, so no point in that.” He giggled shamelessly (adult man or not, he had practically been snatched from the jaws of death just now, he could giggle a bit, okay?) and was glad to see that Loki seemed just as delighted so at least, he wasn't the only one grinning like a madman in this room. “Okay then, how about we –“

 

He didn't get to finish his sentence though. With a loud crash, the door to the room was slammed open and both of them whirled around so they faced the entrance. Standing there was an old man, complete Viking god getup and all with white hair, a beard and a golden eyepatch, his good eye glaring at Loki and Tony while his hand clutched a large spear. For some reason, the engineer believed that this was not their breakfast service.

 

“Father”, Loki greeted.  _ Oh dear. _ Suddenly, Tony was very conscious about the fact that he was standing very close to Loki, had no shirt on and his cheeks were flushed from all the laughing and giggling from before.

 

“Loki”, the old man snapped. “I need to talk to you.” His eye practically burned another hole into Tony's chest as he scrambled to get the tunic back on. “About  _ this _ .” Okay, that sounded bad. Extremely bad. Had he done something wrong?

 

“Could you please clarify  _ this _ ?”, Loki asked calmly and with a nonchalance that the inventor wished he could share right now. “I am afraid that I have no idea...”

 

“ _ Firstly _ ”, Loki-daddy interrupted while slamming the door shut behind him like it weighed nothing, “you missed out on the council meeting this morning –“

 

“ _ Thor _ skips out on them  _ all the time _ ”, Loki threw in with an almost whiny voice.

 

“That is not the point!”

 

“Yes, because Thor is  _ never  _ the point, is he?”, the younger god snapped, his former ease replaced by anger. “Future regent of Asgard, oh  _ please _ . He hasn't attended any political functions that don't involve mead and at least one bilgesnipe for at least –“

 

“At least  _ he _ doesn't go around trying to murder members of the council of the Nine Realms!”, the white-haired god shouted, effectively silencing Loki for a moment. But only a moment.

 

“Trying?”, Loki repeated slowly. “What do you mean, trying?”

 

After drawing a long breath through his nose, the elder god replied: “There has been an attempt on Freyja Skadisdottir's life.”

 

“An  _ attempt _ ”, the mage echoed. “Do you mean to tell me that she is alive?” 

 

Tony wished desperately that the ground would open up and swallow him whole as Loki-daddy shifted his one-eyed glare onto him while he responded heatedly: “Yes, she is alive, but only because her maiden tried out the dress out of curiosity and died some hours later. Otherwise, she would be dead now. She knows what you did, Loki, and all this ridiculous behaviour began when you decided to...”

 

“Oooh, no, no, no”, Loki interrupted, “do not do this again, father. Whatever conclusion you came to, it will be just another attempt to excuse my  _ ridiculous behaviour _ and you know just as good as I do that all those explanations are complete and utter nonsense. How amusing that this sort of nonsense is acceptable when Thor does it, but as soon as I take a step out of line, you show up and yell bloody murder! Had Freyja assaulted  _ Thor _ the way she did with me, you would have made sure that there was a public execution and a reminder for all of Asgard and beyond. She threatened my honour and my possessions and still, you could not care less about hearing my side of this, the side of  _ your son _ , before you storm in here and tell me what I did wrong this time!”

 

“You attempted to murder...”

 

“See?  _ See _ ? You are just proving me right, this is the last nine hundred years all over again! You probably didn't even hear one word I said.” Loki breathed in and out deeply and then turned towards Tony. In a much softer voice, he asked: “Anthony, do you think you will find your way to the kitchen? This is a conversation I would rather hold in private.” The inventor nodded silently and stared at the floor as he hurried past the elder god and into the hallway. 

 

The conversation, albeit having lasted only about a minute so far, gave him a stomach-churning feeling of dread. If the old man – Loki's father and therefore apparently king of Asgard – blamed him for his son's misdeeds, that could go so many shades of wrong... What if he decided to sell Tony again? Or decided on some sort of alien punishment (Tony knew for a fact that there were plenty of those and he had liked none of them so far)? From what he had read about Norse mythology, these Viking gods had a terrifying creativity when it came to gruesome punishments. He had no wish at all to update his scarce knowledge with first-hand experiences.

 

While wandering the wide halls, he wondered if getting lost forever in the palace grounds was a common punishment, too. He didn't even need to be sentenced to it, he had already no idea where he was now. Adding to that was a returning feeling of nausea (he felt like he was going to get rid of most of the palladium by throwing up at this rate) and a slight dizziness, although placebo was doing a great job at making it less bad than the day before. He knew that there couldn't be an actual improvement yet, but didn't think too closely about that because pessimism was not helping. The source of the problem was gone, the symptoms should fade over the course of the next few days.

 

By the time he ran into Fandral, he had climbed up three flights of stairs and descended two, had turned around a hundred corners and passed thousands of doors as well as some greater halls. Nobody seemed to pay much attention to some loner who wandered the place. Most of the people appeared to have egos so big that they blocked their views anyway.

 

Fandral rounded a corner at the same moment that Tony did and they almost bumped into each other. The engineer saw the blond's gaze flicker over his form briefly and did the same; the result caused a crooked little smile. Fandral was wearing what went for casual garments on Asgard, but they looked like they were thrown on pretty hastily. His hair was dishevelled, his cheeks flushed and his lips looked swollen, maybe even bitten.

 

“I'd wish you a good morning”, Tony began with a grin, breaking the silence, “but then again, you seem to have had that already.”

 

“Indeed”, Fandral replied with a cheeky grin of his own. “You look rather pale, if I may say so.”

 

The inventor waved him off. “I'm better already. There's been sort of a problem, but it's okay now. I'm getting better.” He looked around. “Not that I'm judging or anything, but please tell me that I didn't accidentally walk into the royal harem or anything? I don't think I've seen any eunuchs, but you never know...”

 

Fandral laughed and reassured him: “No, I don't have one of those.” A beat of silence, then he added as an afterthought: “Yet.” 

 

Tony snickered and decided that this was his chance to not starve in this castle, so he asked: “You don't... uh, mind to tell me where the kitchen is, do you? Because I have literally no idea where I am.”

 

“It is a common issue with guests in Asgard”, the swordsman remarked, running a hand through his hair to smooth it down a bit. He  _ did _ look pretty messed up. “Would you like to have breakfast together? I have not had what you would call a  _ proper  _ meal so far, either.” His eyes glinted at the double meaning and the engineer found that this was a really great way to get rid of his bad mood, so...

 

“Sure”, he answered and let Fandral lead the way. They... talked. It was really just that. Small-talk. Ridiculously normal. Tony learned that his companion was referred to as Fandral the Dashing, the greatest swordsman of Asgard and (obviously) extremely successful when it came to women and men. He was cheeky in telling his tales, but polite, aiming for humour without slandering anybody, even when he expressed his irritation at Volstagg's enormous appetite or Sif's (and Loki's) resolute refusal to start an affair with him. It was... extremely relaxing.

 

They ended up in Fandral's rooms (wing? Flat? How did they call that sort of thing?) where a servant (or a slave? Tony couldn't tell and he didn't know if that should make him uncomfortable) brought them something to eat. The inventor was hesitant at first, but then again, Fandral had invited him and seemed to be in an extremely good mood. Morning sex did that to people.

 

“I envy you”, the blond said suddenly. 

 

Tony straightened in the armchair he had made himself comfortable in. “Pardon?”

 

“For Loki”, the swordsman elaborated and took a sip out of his goblet. “I know him for almost a thousand years now and you have been here for less than a week, yet you're closer to him than I will probably ever be.”

 

“I, uh...” Now, that had turned awkward pretty quickly. “There's gotta be a middle way, right? I mean, even if he doesn't jump into bed with you – unless that's all you want, of course – you seem to be getting along, don't you?”

 

Fandral laughed quietly and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he responded: “What you need to understand about Loki, Tony Stark, is that there is no 'middle way'. You either got everything – or nothing. There is no in-between.  _ You _ , my friend, you can have everything I never had. You only need to take it.”

 

_ How the hell did I get here? _ , the engineer mused and then realized what Fandral had said just now. He hurried to point out: “Look, I don't want a relationship with Loki, if that's what you're getting at. Sure, he's great and everything and I see that it's not problem in your culture, but I don't go for dudes. It's... not my style, really.” The blond's sceptical slash amused raised eyebrow made him feel like he needed to elaborate that. “Seriously. I'm straight. I... it's just not my kind of thing, that's all. I don't have a problem with other people having fun all the ways they want to, but I...”  _ I've been enough of a disappointment to my father without being gay. Don't need to add that to my list. _ “Well. I don't swing that way.”

 

For some reason, that seemed to amuse Fandral even more. With a smile that said  _ There's a long story behind this _ , he stated: “Gender is not a problem with Loki.” 

 

Tony blinked. “Yeah, I got that much, the problem is  _ me _ , not him.”

 

“That isn't what I meant”, the swordsman corrected. “You do really not know, do you? Loki is a  _ mage _ , dear, and a master of illusions. When he feels like being a woman, he can be a woman. When he feels like being a horse...” He coughed. “He has some great abilities, that is all I'm saying.”

 

“Wait, so you're telling me – Loki is – Loki can – I need to stop thinking about that right now.” The engineer shook his head fiercely like that was going to help somehow. “Anyway, it's not like he wanted... uh, something with me, right? I'm just... oh come on, I'm just a  _ slave _ , Fandral, to cry that out loud. There's nothing Loki could want from me that I haven't given him already.” Only when he had said it he realized how true that was. Loki had said that the reason he had bought him had been the reactor. He  _ had _ the reactor. Hell, he even knew how to make his own by now. 

 

He had  _ no more use _ for Tony.

 

“Oh Jesus, oh fuck, what did I do”, he breathed into his hands before he ran one of them through his hair and pulled at the strands to ground himself. “I'm an idiot, how could I do that, I've literally – oh  _ shit _ , I'm such a moron!”

 

“Tony?”, Fandral asked quietly. “Are you –“

 

“No! No, I'm not alright, I just gave away everything I had to make him keep me, this is  _ not _ okay, why was I idiotic enough to give him everything? What if he...” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I don't want to go back there, I can't...” 

 

A tentative hand touched his arm and the inventor glanced up. “Everything or nothing”, Fandral reminded gently. “Does Loki's behaviour look like  _ nothing _ to you?” Hesitantly, Tony shook his head. “See? He is not going to bring you back. Let Asgard's people say what they want, once Loki has claimed somebody for his own, he is the most loyal person whom I have ever met.” The term  _ claim for his own _ didn't sound half as horrible as it would have if Tony had heard it a week ago – now, it was not something to humiliate him, strip him of his very own self, but something endearing, almost affectionate. Because Loki took care of what was his. 

 

“Yeah”, he breathed. “Yeah, you're right. Okay. Sorry. This is just...” He briefly considered how much he wanted to tell Fandral. “I had something that interested him and now I told him and I... probably freaked out.” He smiled awkwardly at the swordsman who was kneeling in front of him. “Thanks.” He received a grin as an answer and quickly added: “Which  _ still  _ doesn't mean that I want something from Loki!”

 

Fandral laughed while getting up and back to his seat as he replied: “Oh, just stay here for a while and then, we shall see about  _ that _ .”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That escalated quickly. I wanted it to be fluffy after exchanging the reactor, but this just happened! Angst keeps coming to me.   
> And I really like Fandral. Can you tell? :D


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Odin is a dick, Fandral is amused, Loki is NOT amused, and Tony really just doesn't understand this anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say THANK YOU for your amazing support, all of you, before I start this chapter. I was really unsure of how the last one turned out and all your kind comments were a great encouragement. Thank you so much!
> 
> Also, shame on me again, not beta'ed because I have a looot of exams at the moment and just wanted to get this up here as soon as it was done. I'll correct stuff later, I promise. ^^

Tony wasn't sure how long he stayed with Fandral. It was so easy to strike a conversation with him – always bordering on (but never quite reaching) flirting, all of it without making it uncomfortable. Fandral was the sort of person he would have liked back on earth.

 

Both of them winced when the door to Fandral's room burst open and Loki entered, his jaw clenched and looking like some furious raven-haired deity of fury. The conversation with Meanie-with-an-Eyepatch must have been great, then.

 

“ _This_ ”, he hissed, “is _not_ the kitchen, Anthony.” He did his best to murder Fandral with his glare.

 

“I was just having breakfast!”, the engineer defended himself, exchanging a helpless look with the blond while he raised his hands in a soothing gesture.

 

“With _Fandral_ ”, Loki snapped. “Which part of kitchen did you not understand?”

 

“Jesus Christ, Loki, turn it down a notch”, Tony responded. “It's not like he's done anything evil or something like that. What's bitten you all of sudden? You weren't that grumpy earlier today, were you?”

 

“Well, _earlier today_ I didn't have to deal with father's endless tirades and the spineless chickenheart that is Freyja Skadisdottir. Now if you don't mind, I would like you to get up and end this pointless discussion because I had enough of those today!” The prince's voice had risen towards the end of the sentence until he was almost yelling.

 

“Got the memo, you're pissed”, the inventor assured, hands held up in a placating gesture, and set his mug down to stand up from the armchair. “No need to worry though. I don't just jump anybody who seems vaguely likeable”, he added, using the words Loki had spoken before (purposefully leaving out the “I am not Fandral”-bit, because even he had that bit of manners). The god undoubtedly noticed and his lips twitched up into a short smile before he gestured for him to come out impatiently while he was already turning around and leaving the room again.

 

At the doorstep, Tony turned around once again and gave Fandral a slightly helpless-slash-apologetic look. The swordsman just winked at him with a cheeky grin and Tony rolled his eyes. _Not helping there, blondie_.

 

Loki practically slammed the door shut, but as soon as it was closed, his shoulders slumped and he leaned against the wall with a heavy sigh. In a low, scornful voice he mumbled: “Oh, how I _despise_ this.”

 

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I just got lost in this fucking huge labyrinth of a castle and he bumped into me and invited me over, alright?”, the engineer said defensively. “It's not like we did anything, and I had no idea it would upset you so much or I wouldn't have...”

 

“It's not _you_ , Anthony”, the prince interrupted. Oh. That was... more relieving than it should be, actually. “Not completely”, he added with a glance towards Fandral's door like that was going to deter the blond from ever abducting Loki's slave again, then continued in a deep voice that was an obvious parody of his father's: “You need to act the way your status requires, Loki. You cannot do that, Loki. Don't you see how Thor did that, Loki. Why can you not be more like Thor, Loki. Why can you not _be_ Thor, Loki.”

 

“I guess dads tend to be like that”, Tony mused, drawing Loki's gaze towards him. He shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance and wanted to hide his hands in his pockets, only to find that the leather trousers didn't have any so he ended up tugging at the hem of his tunic. “My father was similar”, he elaborated. “I mean, I don't have any older siblings, so there's that, but... I still managed to disappoint him all the time. Whatever I did, it was never enough.” He cleared his throat. “Not that it helps now. But, well, I...” He had no idea what to say. Why had he brought that up in the first place? _Stupid idea, Tony_. “I know what it feels like.” The prince was silent and it made Tony feel like he needed to say something more. “Usually working helps me”, he offered. “So we could go down to the lab and I could tell you some more stuff or we go outside and you show me some... magic?” When did he end up as Loki's therapist, desperately trying to make him feel more comfortable? Maybe it was because the image of a distressed, upset Loki set him on edge. Loki was calmer than this. He was controlled. A little conversation with his father shouldn't have that sort of effect on him, right?

 

Except it did, and Tony knew exactly how that felt like, so putting his mind to something else might be just the right thing to do.

 

The god seemed to consider that for a moment, then he declared: “I think I have a better idea on how to release some tension.” _Dammit, Fandral, this wouldn't have sounded this wrong before!_ , Tony thought while desperately trying to keep a straight face. “I wanted to teach you something since the... incident, anyway.”

 

“Yeah? I'm all ears”, Tony said. “Hit me.”

 

And Loki did.

 

No, really. He did. Literally. He took Tony to something that was apparently the Asgardian equivalent for a gym, just outside and bathed in sunlight, and began to systematically teach him to defend himself, starting slowly with some basic movements, some of which the engineer already knew, moving on to more complicated and stressful tricks, which were always fair, but always effective. And then, he tested him. For _hours_. Until Tony couldn't move anymore and then some longer.

 

“I'm serious”, the inventor forced out, crouched in the sand where Loki had tripped him some moments before. He was gasping for air and drenched with sweat and the prince was absolutely merciless. “I can't... go any further. I'm done.”

 

“You can still _talk_ ”, Loki stated coldly. “So stand up.”

 

“But I...”

 

“Stand. Up!”

 

For a second, Tony froze, startled by the ice in the god's voice. Then, he swallowed thickly and tried to take a deep breath, but he was still wheezing irregularly. His muscles burned and screamed in protest as he forced himself to stand on trembling legs and rubbed a hand over his face, just to grimace afterwards when it came back slick with sweat. He was surprised that he could stand at all and it probably wouldn't need more than a gush of wind to make him collapse again. He was _done_. There was no way Loki could be missing that.

 

Taking a deep breath, Tony raised his arms into the position the prince had shown him before. It felt like they were made of lead, as well as his legs as he moved them into a defensive stance. He couldn't go any further. He physically couldn't. He was _so_ done. They had been going for hours.

 

“Christ, Loki, I'm _mortal_ , there's only so much I can...”, he tried again but was cut off another time.

 

“And still, I cannot help but notice how you are still able to speak”, the mage stated indifferently, brushing an errand strand back behind his ear and easily falling into the stance as well. “It's your turn to start.” _Okay then_. Tony let his gaze wander down Loki's body, more to buy some time to catch his breath than actually looking for weaknesses, because one of the first things he'd understood was that while Loki might look relaxed, he was always ready to counter any sort of attack in a split-second. There was just no way to get past his defences in a fair way.

 

Yeah, you got that one right. Not in a fair way. Remembering a book he had read ages ago, Tony asked: “Did you know the sparrow flies south for the winter?”

 

Loki frowned in confusion, his hands dropping a bit from where he had been holding them up as he replied: “That has hardly anything to do with –“

 

Instead of using some complicated and extremely straining technique, Tony hit the prince square on the jaw. His hand felt like he had just punched a solid rock afterwards, but Loki took about half a step back, looking utterly betrayed for a moment before he accused: “That was not fair.”

 

The inventor rocked back on his heels (he had to try a little too hard not to keel over to make it look nonchalant, but he found that for the state of exhaustion he was in, he did a pretty good job) and responded with a cheeky grin: “Firstly, you never told me to fight fair. Secondly, the only thing I did was to point something out that I learned while...” _Reading children's books._ “...uh, researching. Next time you drop by on Earth, look up Skulduggery Pleasant.”

 

“I... hardly see which part of skulduggery is all that pleasant, but if you say so.” Loki's previous coldness had turned into a barely contained smirk that made the corners of his mouth hitch upwards. Then, he took a step towards Tony and the engineer stumbled backwards, raising both hands in front of him.

 

“Loki, _seriously_ , I'm done. Stop. Give me another minute and I'm literally going to collapse, I'm –“

 

“I was not attacking you, Anthony.”

 

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, but I was still sort of in defence mode. It's what, I dunno, three hours? Of _this_ do to you.” He gestured around the sand arena thing they were in, one of several that were mercilessly being shone on by the sun.

 

“Yes, that is what it is _supposed_ to do”, Loki remarked drily, and then, on a more serious note: “I will not see you defenceless again.” _Oh_. That was... that actually made sense, if Loki was even half as protective about his things as Fandral had hinted at. He hadn't actually said anything before, had just dragged Tony out here and started to go through the basics of self-defence with him. And then into less basic and more murderous things. For several hours. In a very practical way.

 

“O-kay”, the engineer said slowly. “So, am I allowed to collapse now? Because I really, really feel like it. I don't really have the palladium out of my system yet – although I guess I've sweated out a lot of it by now. Ugh. _Jesus_ , I feel so disgusting. I'm sticky as hell and...”

 

“Stop it”, Loki laughed, waving a hand to shut the inventor up. “I have, as you would say, 'got the memo'. I would say you can go to your room to clean and change, but judging from past experiences, you would either get lost and starve in some dark corner of the caste – or get picked up by Fandral again. _Or_ collapse halfway there.”

 

“Got it, weak pathetic mortal”, Tony grumbled. “Your teleporting thing might come in handy right now.”

 

Loki's reaction surprised him: The god practically winced and his eyes darted around as if he feared that anyone had heard Tony, then he said almost too quiet to catch: “I do not usually make use of my skills when there are too many... _warriors_ around.” Again, an almost haunted glance to his surroundings, but the nearest Asgardians were way too far away to possibly hear them, especially as focussed as they were on wrestling each other to the ground. “People do not take magic too well on Asgard.”

 

The comment made Tony think. On the first day he had met Loki, the god had teleported them across two different realms – but then, only Thor and the Warriors Three (plus Sif) were there to witness it. From what he'd picked up so far, Loki's weapon of choice was magic and since he usually fought alongside those five, they were probably well aware of it and he was comfortable using it around them. But if Asgard didn't take it so well – or the _warriors_ specifically because Marianne had not at all seemed deterred by it – then it made sense for him to not use his abilities all that freely. This _did_ seem like a Viking culture and they were all about axes, hammers and shit. The mage with his lean body, the dark hair and the pale skin didn't seem to fit in sometimes, and apparently, his skillset didn't sit too well with the others, so apparently Loki was very self-conscious about his magic.

 

Which was, frankly, something Tony really didn't understand. No matter how big your axe was, if your enemy could turn invisible or teleport or fancy stuff like that, it wasn't going to help you in the least.

 

“Well, it's not like I need to understand these... people”, he muttered as non-committally as possible, but judging by the prince's raised eyebrows, he knew exactly that Tony had meant to say _idiots_.

 

“I could, of course, always carry you”, he offered with a crooked smile.

 

“No way. I'm not _that_ out of it _–_ okay, so maybe I am, but gimme a minute's rest and I'm up and running again”, Tony protested and, as if to prove his point, flopped down into the sand. This long-sleeved tunic was going to be the end of him. Who wore long-sleeved clothing for physical exercise anyway?! That was ridiculous. He probably looked like an asthmatic tomato in a sandbox ( _thank you very much, brain, but I didn't actually need that image)._ ”I'm definitely able to get back to my room now”, he decided and used his arms to push himself upright again. He was going to take the longest bath in history and possibly drown because he really felt like falling asleep now that the adrenaline that had come with _Oh god, I think Loki is trying to kill me with self-defence_ had worn off. Okay, short bath then. And bed afterwards.

 

The prince walked him back inside, away from this giant courtyard, and as soon as nobody was around anymore, he grasped Tony's arm. It sent a fresh jolt of adrenaline through the engineer and he looked up at Loki in surprise, but then the world around him dissipated into a swirl of colours and he was glad that his face was still flushed from exertion because otherwise, his embarrassed blush would have been visible. Of course the god would wait until no-one was watching when he utilized his powers, he had just explained that after all.

 

Fandral had seriously ruined his way to look at these things.

 

But even without Fandral's input he maybe would have noticed that Loki's hand rested on his arm for longer than was actually necessary when they stood in his room again, the mage declaring: “I shall have a little training session of my own now – and I think I might invite Fandral to join me.”

 

“We were just having breakfast!”, Tony exclaimed, and okay, judging by Loki's teasing little smirk, that had probably come out more defensive than it should have.

 

“I did not insinuate that anything else has happened”, the god still pointed out, although it had already been said more than distinctly by the look he had thrown the inventor before.

 

“Yeah, well, you... yeah.” So eloquent, Tony. So articulate. A masterpiece of a sentence, really. “I'll just shut up and take a bath now.”

 

“Do enjoy yourself.” _That would not have sounded wrong before Fandral._ Loki's hand dropped from his arm now as the prince nodded and headed for the door. Before he opened it, he turned around and added: “And I hope you won't be too sore tomorrow”, _screw you, Fandral, you're ruining my life, that was_ not _a damn innuendo_ , “since I plan on continuing our exercises on a daily basis from now on.”

 

“Are you actively trying to kill me?”, the inventor lamented with a long-suffering look.

 

The mage completely ignored the non-seriousness of that question as he answered: “No, I am actively trying to keep you from getting killed.” He was out of the door before Tony could think of a good response. Perhaps there was no good answer to something like that.

 

In an attempt to bring himself to think of something else, he headed for the bathroom and (with no small amount of childish giddiness) used the magical/computer-y controls to fill the tub with steaming hot water. As much as he would love a cold shower under circumstances like this, he a) didn't have a shower and b) wouldn't want to test his reaction to icy water in his face just yet even if he could.

 

Besides, getting out of his sweaty clothes and washing sand and sweat and dirt off himself did wonders for Tony's aching muscles and there was the distinct advantage of the water in Asgardian bathtubs apparently never getting cold. When he finally mustered the energy to move and soap himself up with the herbal-smelling... call it shower gel, in lack of a better word, hours could have passed and he decided to slip into the (ridiculously soft and comfortable) pyjama thing before flopping down onto the bed face-first. It made him grunt in pain because it also meant that he landed squarely on the reactor, but he was quick to roll over and curl up on his side, damp hair wetting the covers as exhaustion lulled him into a shallow sleep, always bordering on but never quite drifting into complete unconsciousness.

 

Therefore, the soft knock on the door was the only thing needed to get him to sit up, running a hand through his hair. It was dry already so he must have been laying here for quite some time and it was probably standing into every direction. Well, it wasn't like he needed to dress up to go to sleep, he figured as he called out: “Yeah?” It sounded more drowsy than he had expected and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. A quick glance out of the window told him that the sun was about to set, painting everything in a soft orange that got caught in small, fluffy clouds, making them look like cotton balls that someone had spilled their orange juice on.

 

_Okay, brain, you're definitely too tired for metaphors right now, please stop it. That's like the worst description of clouds I've ever encountered and I wrote a lot of really crappy poems back in high school._

 

Thankfully, Loki chose that moment to open the door. He didn't fully enter though, but leaned against the door to keep it from closing again while he balanced a tray with several bowls on his hands. With a small smile, he asked: “Would you like to have dinner on the balcony? This looks like it might become a truly wonderful sunset.”

 

“I – sure thing, yeah. On my way.” He was in his pyjamas (dark red silk pyjamas, and no-one try to tell him now that Loki wasn't absolutely _spoiling_ him here because that sure as hell wasn't slave standard), half-asleep and had a bedhead and the sun hadn't even gone down yet. What could possibly go wrong? 

 

_Ha_ .

 

The prince watched him with a glint of fond...  _something_ in his eyes as Tony practically crawled out of bed and padded towards him, one hand still rubbing his eyes. Meeting Loki's gaze with a look as challenging as he could manage, he asked: “See something you like?” He blamed it on his still fuzzy brain that he hadn't noticed how  _that_ would sound before he said it.  _Brain-to-mouth-filter, goddammit._

 

Loki's smile only grew, showing a glint of white teeth now, as he answered: “You look adorable like this.”

 

“Excuse me?”, Tony protested, doing his best to sound appalled rather than tired. “I am a grown man and I refuse to be entitled as _adorable_ ”, he stated, crossing his arms and passing Loki who was still holding the door open, grinning even wider now.

 

“I think that is open for discussion”, the mage decided. “For one, I think...”

 

“Lalala, can't hear you!”, Tony sing-songed with his hands over his ears. “I'm rude and insolent and complicated and too cheeky for my own good, but I'm definitely not adorable. Not even with a bedhead. Seriously, you're the first to call my bedhead _adorable_. Other people go for _incredibly sexy_ or _dishevelled_ or something, and then there's you and suddenly I'm adorable. We gotta work on that, I mean, like seriously, no-one calls me adorable.” And then he noticed that he had said 'incredibly sexy' before and now it sounded like he wanted to say the god just that, which he didn't because he was _not_ flirting with Loki.

 

Now he was blushing. _Oh_ god _, Tony, could you make this worse somehow? This is, like, giving_ all _the wrong signals, you idiot. If you want to flirt, then go for Brenda in the kitchen, not Loki, for heaven's sake!_ The prince just regarded him with a grin that was so utterly self-content and mirthful that Tony only half-heartedly fought his own smile while they walked down the hallway. He could blame it on being tired later on.

 

As it turned out, Loki's living room had a really huge balcony attached to it that looked out on the rainbow bridge and the sun setting at the... the... the literal edge of the world. The thought made him chuckle and as a response to the prince's questioning gaze, he explained shortly: “Where I come from”, and yes, he chose to use four words to describe it instead of just saying _home_ , “people used to believe the world was a disc for a pretty long time. Which won't seem all that silly to you since you're, well, living on a disc, but our planet is round, elliptic, to be exact. They used to burn people who tried to prove it some centuries ago. And now I'm standing on a disc and I bet you're about to tell you that your sun revolves around the... uh, planet, in lack of a better word, and not the other way 'round. Well, take that one, Galileo.” Grinning, he flopped down onto the surprisingly comfortable bench that stood right at the wall, drinking in the sight stretched before him. “This really _is_ beautiful”, he admitted, now much more quiet than before.

 

“Isn't it”, Loki just said and handed him a bowl of – good god, was that chilli? Not quite, of course, as vegetables and stuff were pretty different on Asgard, but it tasted similar, the concept seemed to be the same – before he sat down next to him, close, but not too close for comfort.

 

They ate in silence, watching as the sun slowly vanished over the edge of the world, together with the masses of water flowing down (and how the hell did that work?) into empty space. It didn't take very long, but it was a fascinating to see the colours shifting and casting light onto the endlessly flowing water. No matter how wonderful that was to watch, however, Tony caught himself glancing at Loki several times. The god was staring into empty space with a thoughtful expression, not seeming like he was really watching the sunset. He was stirring the contents of his bowl with his spoon absent-mindedly, but didn't make a move to actually eat anything.

 

When the last rays of light had disappeared, Tony had eaten up and Loki still hadn't moved, the inventor asked cautiously: “Is something bothering you?”

 

Green eyes focussed on him as Loki turned his head to the side and answered: “No.” It was said so perfectly calm and without any apparent reaction, so that it couldn't be anything but a lie; it was far too smooth to be true. Tony only raised an eyebrow, prompting, but not forcing the prince to go on. For a moment, he held his gaze, then the mage let his head drop back against the wall and said: “Thor is going to be coronated in a month from now. Odin told me today.” _Got a name for Mean Eyepatch Daddy now_ , Tony mused. _Everything else would inevitably become awkward someday._ He still didn't say anything and after a few moments, Loki continued himself, his voice an angry hiss: “I just don't _understand_! I love my brother, I really do, but he is in no way fit to be a king! He would start a war at any time and enjoy it instead of negotiating, he has no idea about how to properly seal contracts and bargains and he has no patience at all. He is not ready for this, not even in the slightest, and it is ridiculous to assume that he would take this task well. What does he have?” A bitter laugh passed his lips. “The support of Asgard's people, yes. They will stand by him and cheer as he leads them into their demise. I cannot believe that father is doing this. Ageing must have had _quite_ the effect on him.”

 

What could you reply to something like that? Tony had honestly no idea, but still, Loki kept talking.

 

“It is... I...” He took a deep breath and stared at the stars above him before continuing quietly: “I admit that sometimes, I envy Thor. No matter what he does, to father, it is always right. His mistakes, when Odin even acknowledges them as such, are always forgiveable. All his deeds are great and heroic, and when I accomplish the same or even more, it is written off as unfair and cheated because I use magic.” The god balled his fists in his lap. “None of those _oafs_ is able to best me in a fight and they still find ways to claim that I am weaker than them, and if any of their skulls held the intelligence of a rat, Asgard would be a much more sophisticated place. But all they think about is food, mead and bashing each other's heads in.” That was probably the royal equivalent to _I am surrounded by idiots_. Tony tried to recall what he had learned about Thor so far. He seemed sympathetic enough, but while he certainly wasn't stupid, he didn't seem to be the type to over-think his moods before acting on them. Clearly not the best qualification for ruling an intergalactic kingdom. “May the people be ever so foolish, I love Asgard and I would hate to see her fall apart under Thor's inapt rule.”

 

Tony wondered how many people saw that part of Loki. The part that was looking at the stars and wondering why he wasn't good enough for his father if his brother was. The part that wanted to impress Odin and didn't understand how his brother was any better than him. It made Tony ask himself if his life would have been different with a sibling. Would Howard have preferred him or his elder/ younger brother? Or sister? Would Jarvis have a favourite? Somehow, that idea scared him far more than being neglected by Howard. That, he was used to. But what if his sibling would've been like him, just without the bad habits? Without the alcohol, the women, the drugs, the never-ending insolence, but still a genius. Yeah, that would've been Howard Stark's dream child.

 

Swallowing harshly, he asked: “Isn't there a way to talk some sense into your father? From what I got, it's not the first-born who has to be king, but the one who's the most capable, right? So is it maybe... I dunno, if you can't convince your dad to make you king – because I know neither Thor nor you as good as your father probably does, but from what I saw so far, you're suited a lot better for the job – then at least delay the event? Give Thor some time to get more mature, and... it's probably nothing compared to actually being king, but you could be sort of his right hand?”

 

“Anthony, I do not _want_ to be king”, Loki sighed. “I want to protect Asgard. If it meant taking the throne, I would do it, but that is not my goal. I would be content with aiding Thor if I could be sure he would _listen_ to me, but with that temper of his... he would lead us all into our demise.”

 

“Whoa, that's really pretty gravely here, Lokes”, he interjected. “I mean, he won't end the world or something. I'm sure there's something we – I mean, you can do to prevent that from happening. You still got a month and maybe something happens that has the coronation... postponed for a while. Something interrupting the preparations or the ceremony itself so you've got a little while longer to either take care that Thor's ready or you figure something else out that helps you... protect Asgard.”

 

Loki stared at him for a long moment and Tony started to think that maybe he had gone too far with proposing sabotage during a coronation, but suddenly, the mage broke out into a grin and took the engineer's face into his hands, thumbs laying at his ears while the other fingers were splayed over his neck and the back of his head. He felt his cheeks burn bright red and was about to object when Loki declared: “Anthony Edward Stark, you truly are a genius.” Then, he leaned forward – and pressed a short kiss onto Tony's forehead before he stood up and rushed inside.

 

The inventor remained seated on the bench and exhaled with a shudder, clasping his hands together in his lap to prevent himself from touching the spot Loki had kissed or worse, pressing his hands onto his rapidly pounding heart like some woman out of a bad movie.

 

_I am_ so  _screwed._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this, folks, is how we initiated the Thor I plot. It's going to take a while until we're actually there, but I think you can see where this is going...  
> Edit: There is a bonus to this chapter called "Interrogation". Part four of this series.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starring: Queen, FrostIron thoughts by Tony, the queen (no, no, not the band this time) and Freyja. Wait, where did that one come from?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, my dears, and welcome to a chapter that is once again unbeta'ed because I was so late and wanted to get this up as soon as possible. I wasn't at home this weekend and had neither a laptop nor internet access... I'll update the chapter with the corrections soon.
> 
> I hope you all noticed last week's update, a side piece called "Interrogation" (I know, I know. I hate titles), part, uh, four of the series? You'll find it, I've got faith in you. ^.^

“We are the champions, my friends _...”,_ Tony hummed and picked up the tunics that had miraculously appeared in his room overnight. They didn't have the strong red of the others he had received, two of which were of a light blue and the other two dark green, the latter also with golden threads woven into the collar and the ends of the sleeves. “And we will keep on fighting 'til the end...” Together with the tunics, three new pairs of the leather trousers had been stacked onto the chair in front of his desk and he loaded them onto his arms, too, so he could carry everything over to the wardrobe that he hadn't used so far. Singing louder with every word, he went on: “We are the champions, we are the champions...” He was here for seven days and got a workshop, clothes and a daily workout. That counted as spoilt, didn't it? “No time for losers, 'cause we are the champions...” He stuffed the clothes into the wardrobe, slammed its door shut, whirled around with a great flourish and finished: “Of the wooorld!”

 

For a moment, he just stood there with his arms spread wide open.  _I am Tony Stark, owner (former owner?) of Earth's greatest weapons company, sold to slave traders –_ space  _slave traders, mind you – and bought by an alien prince who has a dick father and too many enemies, and now I'm standing in another world in a palace with my pyjamas on, doing my laundry and singing Queen. Make a movie out of this and people will tell you that the storyline is awful and far too crazy to be real._ For some reason, the thought made him grin. Then giggle. A minute later, Loki burst into the room to find the engineer clutching his sides and shaking with laughter, propped up against the wardrobe.

 

“Anthony, what...” He broke off and just stared at Tony for a moment. “Are you alright?”

 

It sent the inventor into another fit of hysterical laughter and between gasps, he managed to reassure: “Don't you worry, Prince Charming, Snow White is- is just fine! She might've lost her mind though, but you won't notice. Not much of a difference, really.” Loki's expression, torn between amused and worried, caused him to crack up even more and by the time he calmed down, he had to wipe tears out of his eyes in order to see clearly.

 

“Are you done?”, the mage, who had made himself comfortable in the large armchair next to the bed, asked. Although he clearly still didn't know what had caused Tony's little outburst, he seemed amused by it.

 

“Yeah, I am. Sorta.” The engineer grinned. “Thanks... thanks for the clothes, by the way.”

 

“They were not, by chance, the cause of your delight, were they?”, Loki asked suspiciously. Now that his laughter had ebbed off, Tony found the silence strangely uncomfortable and so he just shook his head and worked on filling it: “Nope, they just made me think about... something else. Bit complicated. Did you plan anything for today?”

 

The prince nodded after a short pause, apparently accepting that he wouldn't learn anything about Tony's fit of maniacal cackling, and explained: “Breakfast is the first, of course, but then I would like to take you to the healers – or, if you are more comfortable with that, to my mother – so someone can take a look at the poisoning and if we can do anything to get rid of it faster.” He paused and Tony hesitantly nodded his agreement. Something told him that Loki actually waited for it and would accept 'no' for an answer if he insisted on it, and that was exactly what made him agree. “I will need to attend a council meeting afterwards”, the mage continued with an annoyed grimace, “and you can choose yourself whether you would like to spend the time in the library, your laboratory or in the kitchen – just make sure you find the _kitchen_ this time.” The last sentence was accompanied by a sharp look and Tony shot the god an audacious grin, causing a sigh and an eye-roll. “Afterwards, we will have our training session...”

 

“Yeah, about that”, the inventor cut in. Better say it now than later. “We're _not_ doing three hours again. I'm serious, and don't give me that look, but I really can't take it, not before the palladium is out of my system. Remember yesterday? We started well before lunch and I was out for the whole afternoon, that's _not_ healthy. I'm just a weak little mortal, I can't take it just now. We can do more when I'm up and running again, but at the moment, I'm not.” He exhaled slowly and, somewhat anxiously, waited for Loki's response.

 

The mage, to his surprise, just nodded and said: “Two hours, then.”

 

“One.”

 

“One and a half, and I will go easy on you.”

 

“Deal.” Well, that had been surprisingly easy. “And then?”

 

“I thought about showing you around the palace for the rest of the afternoon”, the prince answered. “There are some beautiful places I could show you.”

 

“Sounds great”, Tony replied with a smile. “So, breakfast now?”

 

“Breakfast now”, Loki confirmed and stood up. “I will wait in my room until you are...” He looked Tony up and down once. “...ready.” Right. Pyjamas. Silk pyjamas.

 

Blushing despite himself, Tony gathered himself up from the floor and responded: “Yeah, you go... do that. Waiting. Ready in a minute.” He forced his mouth shut before he could end up stammering something embarrassing and turned towards the wardrobe again. He probably just imagined the chuckle before Loki left the room... right?

 

Looking over his shoulder to make sure that he really was alone, he opened the buttons of the long-sleeved pyjama and listened to the whispering sound that only silk could produce as it slid off his shoulders. While he laid it over the back of the chair at the desk, the thought occurred to him that he had never been this careful with his own things before. _Well, look what it does to you when you don't have 'your own things' anymore for a while._ Staring at the tunics on the dark shelves, he noticed that he hadn't had to choose between different clothes for months and for a moment it felt like something this simple was going to be too much for him, but then he remembered that he had seen Loki in barely anything than green and black so far and reached for one of the green tunics. Not because he wanted to please Loki, just because it was the first choice. _Yeah, instead of the colour you chose yourself when he asked you. Seems legit, Tony._

 

_Shut up, brain._

 

He ran a hand through his hair, slipped the tunic on and changed into one of the leather trousers. He was just going to have breakfast, nothing more, there was no reason to make a fuss out of it.

 

Despite that, he found himself hesitating when he stood in front of Loki's door, taking a deep breath and only then knocking softly. There was a quiet “Come in” from inside and Tony opened the door, once again looking around the god's quarters. The sun illuminated the room in soft colours and it looked more domestic than when Tony had first seen it: The bed wasn't tidied up yet, a book and some papers were laying next to a pillow

 

Loki was just stacking a roll of parchment on the huge desk on top of another one, creating some free space around the tablet with food standing near the table's edge. He looked up and smiled when the inventor came in, gesturing towards the table: “I do not usually eat in here... at least not with guests.” Tony grinned as he pictured Loki on the large armchair in dark green silk pyjamas, a book on his lap and some sort of pastry in his hands, or maybe even having breakfast in bed, complete with tousled hair and lazily turning the book's pages as he ate. The image was disturbingly adorable. _Stop thinking about that. Loki is a lot of things, cute is not one of them._ “But I would rather not have breakfast with Odin today.”

 

Tony nodded his understanding, but decided not to strike a conversation about that topic right now. Mentioning his father's name had caused Loki's eyes to darken already, so he decided to talk about something else and chose the first thing that came to his mind: “I've been thinking about the thing with the library, because that sounds really great and all, but... I don't think I can read a single book in there. So I thought, when you're currently not busy with some... regal council stuff and everything, you could maybe, you know...” He shrugged, briefly wondering why he was so hesitant to pose the question – maybe it was too much to ask for? But Loki could always decline, couldn't he? Asking couldn't hurt. “...you could teach me? How to read it, I mean. Maybe even speak. Oh, and by the way, it would be _pretty_ interesting to know how almost every alien I've met so far spoke English. With different accents, mind you.”

 

Loki looked outright delighted on the prospect of teaching him. _Not the wrong thing to ask for, then_ , Tony thought with a smile when the god responded: “I would love to teach you about anything you would like to learn.” It sounded fond and excited at the same time, as if it was rare that anyone ever wanted to know anything from him – which was something Tony couldn't really imagine, with all the knowledge Loki had proven that he had in their previous conversations. Then again, judging by the impressions he had gotten so far, your average Aesir warrior didn't go about reading books all that often. He was glad that Loki was the exception to that rule.

 

The reply made the engineer grin – he was probably more excited about this than Loki was. He hadn't really had the opportunity to do any science-related things in months and now he was just getting back into it. He literally had a new world to explore and someone by his side who was willing to help him. What could possibly go wrong n- _don't ask that question if you don't want an answer._

 

He sat down in the chair Loki nodded towards and asked: “So we're going to do that, yes? When do we start? I mean, we could of course, after dinner – or maybe after the palace tour...”

 

Loki handed him a soft bread roll and cut in with a smile: “Or we could skip the palace tour and head for the library after our spar.”

 

“That might be the most wonderful thing you've said today”, Tony stated with a grin and pretended not to notice how their fingers brushed against each other. It took him a moment to notice, though, that he hadn't flinched at the casual touch, which was... okay, Loki had exchanged his arc reactor which was about as intimate as it got, but still. He just... still wasn't used to touches he didn't have to shy away from. Touches that meant no harm. “Change of topic. I'm curious. Do I get to know what kind of brainwave did you have yesterday?” He felt the ghost touch of Loki's kiss on his forehead again and _dear god, I'm not blushing right now, that's ridiculous_.

 

The prince looked contemplative for a moment, as if he was considering how much he wanted to tell Tony. Well, seemed like there were some not-so-innocent plans at work here... Eventually, he settled for: “You will know, soon. I'd rather keep it a surprise.”

 

“I love surprises”, Tony chuckled, although he did it with the distinct notion that this particular surprise wouldn't be all that pleasant for some people. “So I won't pose any further questions, promise. And I suppose we won't be mentioning that in front of other people?”

 

“We won't”, Loki agreed with a small smile. “Now, shall we move on to more enjoyable topics? There is something called the 'All-Speak' that you said interested you...”

 

#

 

Tony was a lot of things. A genius was one of them, an idiot was not. Which... was actually tautological, but not the point right now. The point was Loki.

 

He turned a tool over in his hands and thought about the morning, the evening before that, the midday he had spent sparring with Loki. He wasn't blind and Fandral's words had made him see things in a different light. A _very_ different light. It wasn't even like it hadn't been there before, but he hadn't looked for it.

 

The first thing he had noticed when he had started to actually look for it, though, were small, lingering touches – never enough to make him uncomfortable, often fleeting enough for him not to notice up until now. The way Loki would lay a hand on Tony's lower back when he reached around him for a book on the desk with the other one. The way his fingers curled around the engineer's forearm as they were both bent over that same book some minutes later, their shoulders touching each other. The way Loki's fingers ran through his hair, tousling it playfully, and then lingered there for a little too long to be natural as he said goodbye to Tony when he had to attend his council meeting (they had ended up discussing the concept of All-Speak over breakfast so excessively that the prince had almost been late, so they had decided to visit Frigga afterwards).

 

The inventor found that he didn't mind this kind of familiarity at all. That didn't mean that he wanted some sort of... relationship with Loki (still straight here, thank you very much), but the mage didn't make him feel cornered or intimidated with his behaviour. It was just... comfortable, being touched without expecting pain in the next second.

 

There were Loki's glances, too. As he had entered the room this morning and Loki had seen that he wore the green tunic, there had been a brief flash of... _something_ in his eyes, akin to satisfaction or just delight at seeing Tony in the colour that seemed to be his trademark here. Whenever he thought that Tony wasn't looking, sometimes even when he was, his eyes grew softer for a moment and he seemed thoughtful as if solving a riddle while not being sure if he really wanted a solution.

 

To sum it up: Loki was giving him _signals_ , and he'd be lying if he said that he knew what to make of them. He wouldn't bring the topic up, that much was sure, but he felt like Loki would do it at some point, and he had no idea how he was going to react. It was going to be a disaster, a really fucking _big_ disaster, and things were starting to look good right now so he wanted to avoid screwing up. Which meant he would have to talk to Loki. Or just go along with whatever Loki wanted...

 

“For Christ's sake, Tony, get a grip on yourself!”, he snapped and threw the tool he had been toying with onto the table. “That's not even an option.”

 

“Am I interrupting?”, Loki asked from the door and the engineer almost fell from his chair before he managed to turn around so he could see the prince. He leaned in the door frame and smiled a little half-smile that looked partly sceptical, partly amused. A bit like when he had walked in on Tony's little Queen-debut in the morning. He seemed to have a knack for finding him in awkward situations. “Should I leave again? Are you having a moment?”

 

“Oh, shut up”, Tony threw his way, although he felt a smile creeping its way onto his expression despite himself.

 

“No, I wouldn't want to disturb this deep conversation you seemed to be in”, the mage continued, making a soothing gesture with his hands. “Tabletops make for the most interesting interlocutors, especially when it comes to listening.”

 

“What did they give you to eat on that council meeting?”, Tony demanded, trying not to laugh. “Are you seriously talking to me about the conversational skills of tables?”

 

“Well, otherwise I would have to tell you about the conversational skills of Odin's council, which makes tables appear like a really interesting topic”, Loki explained drily. “Please don't make me talk about it. Should we head for Frigga's quarters right away?”

 

“Yeah, why not”, the inventor replied and stood up, stretching and wincing at the popping sounds in his spine. He'd been sitting at the table for far too long, but he had decided to make a little catalogue of all the things he had down here. It would surely take a while, but he had the time, after all. “Sparring before or after lunch?”

 

“Do you feel like sparring after eating?”, Loki asked back with a raised eyebrow while they began to make their way through the hallways of the castle. Tony wordlessly shook his head and the god nodded with a smile. “I thought so.”

 

“To pick that up where we left off before”, the engineer mused, “I understand that the All-Speak translates whatever you say into whatever the other party can understand. But what I don't get yet is how people acquire that sort of skill. Is it something you were born with? Because if you are, and the All-Speak translates what you want to say analogously, then how about babies? Imagine you've got some two-year-old there who goes all 'Dada mama baba' on you while he actually wants to tell you how wonderful that fountain over there looks – wait, is that a pig? A pig with horns? Antlers? Seriously, what the hell is that statue? Is that guy trying to kill it or does he... I don't even know.” Frowning in confusion, Tony stared at the figure in the middle of the fountain in the hall they were currently passing through while Loki beside him laughed in amusement over his obliviousness.

 

“It is a bilgesnipe”, he replied, which, thank you, was not answering any questions. “You don't know those?” Tony wordlessly shook his head and the prince promised: “I will show them to you one day. As soon as you are better.”

 

“O-kay”, Tony said slowly. _Welcome to my world. We have magicians, golden castles and pigs with antlers. Why not?_ “Good thing my biology teacher isn't here to see this.”

 

“Your teacher?”, Loki repeated.

 

“My _old_ teacher”, the engineer corrected. “I don't know how things like that work here, but I used to go to school. As a prince and everything, you probably got private tutoring, but I visited an official college. It's not that great when you're younger and still smarter than everybody else around you. People don't tend to like it when someone they consider a kid tells them how to do their stuff and is right about it.” He shrugged and looked around, searching for something to talk about that wasn't his stupid fellow college students. It wasn't hard to find something, really. “I get why you live for thousands of years”, he muttered. “Over the half of that is probably spent with walking through this giant castle-thing. Seriously, how big is this? It's not a castle anymore, it's a city in a building. There's nothing you don't have in here, is there?”

 

“Congratulations”, Loki replied with a grin, “you have understood Asgard.” He made a wide motion with one arm and the other hand found its way to the small of Tony's back. The inventor refused to admit that he leaned into the touch, walked a little closer to Loki – a _little_ , okay? It didn't have to mean anything. “Some of the people here have never seen anything but the walls of this palace. That is probably the reason why they are so incredibly boring.”

 

Tony chuckled and watched the people around them. The crowd consisted of some people, probably nobles, with extravagant clothing and their noses high in the air, others were wearing armours and had weapons hanging from their belts, and then there were those who had a mixture of both, elaborate designs of layers and layers of fabric and metal. Some of them looked like they had seen a lot in their lives, but others... yeah, for most of them he could imagine nothing but boring dinners and sophisticated discussions over a cup of tea, especially the women. Looking at them, he found it hardly surprising that the Aesir seemed prejudiced when it came to them, they met just about every preconception he could imagine. Apart from that Sif-girl who had been with Thor, maybe, but she seemed to be the rare exception.

 

“Is it a good idea to say something like that in the middle of a crowd?”, he asked anyway. There were a lot of people around to hear Loki call them boring and that might not be all that good if he met some of them on his council meetings later on.

 

The mage just waved his concerns off though and responded: “They are too busy trying to catch other people's attention to pay some to their surroundings themselves. We could be plotting the demise of the Nine Realms for all they care.” Tony laughed and if he leaned a little closer to Loki while doing so, well, that had to be a coincidence.

 

The god bent down a little and started to mumble something about the people coming their way with a hushed voice: “Do you see the one over there? With the blue dress and the red hair? She started to cheat her husband two centuries ago and he still has no idea – he does the same, anyway. And that blonde over there? I might or might not have dyed her hair green a few years ago. Stop looking at me like that, she deserved it, her voice gave me headaches for days on end when she tried to lecture me about magic. And the oaf with the tousled beard once taunted me because magic was, and I quote, nothing that can even slightly bother a true warrior. For some reason, his furniture stuck to the ceiling for the next week.” And it went on, and on, and on. Tony lost it completely when Loki changed the sword of a snobby lord passing them by into a tree's branch full of dark green leaves and by the time they reached the quieter part of the castle where Frigga's quarters were, the inventor leaned on the god for support, clutching his sides because he was laughing so hard. Loki was chuckling next to him, too, and they stopped in front of the door to Frigga's rooms to calm down a little.

 

Apparently, they were too loud to be overheard though. Only half a minute after their arrival, the queen opened her door with a curious look and looked at her son and his companion, both leaning against the opposite wall, Tony with one arm over his stomach and the other clinging to Loki's tunic to hold himself upright and Loki with his arm around the engineer's shoulders.

 

“Loki”, Frigga began cautiously, “what did you do?”

 

“No-nothing”, the prince gasped, giving her his most innocent smile that was completely ruined by Tony cascading in another wave of laughter next to him. Loki threw him a glance and amended: “Nothing really bad.”

 

“Better or worse than the Bragi-incident?”, she asked with a sigh.

 

“Not as bad”, Loki replied and the inventor, straightening up, shot him a curious look. “I will tell you about it. Later.”

 

Tony bit his tongue and tried to maintain a straight face while he greeted Frigga with a small bow and followed her inside together with Loki. The queen's calm, not even slightly exasperated behaviour (judging by her knowing smile, she probably had just as much fun with her son's pranks as he did – she was just better at hiding it) only increased Tony's respect for her. It had to be wonderful to have her for a mother.

 

He sobered up a little when they sat down – he knew what was coming now and although he knew that she wouldn't harm him in any way, he was still uncomfortable with people seeing the reactor (or him without a shirt in general). It was... something else with Loki.

 

“This is about the poisoning, isn't it?”, she asked and the inventor nodded. “Loki told me about it.”

 

“It's already better”, Tony assured, “we took care of the source already. It's just the after-effects now, but Loki wanted that I let someone take a look at it and I... yeah.” He shrugged, averting his eyes, and was suddenly incredibly grateful for Loki's steady hand that had inconspicuously found its way to his back again. “I'd like someone to see it whom I...” _Trust,_ he wanted to say, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it and settled instead for: “...know.”

 

The queen nodded with a smile and replied: “I understand. Shall we get it done, then?”

 

“Yeah”, the engineer replied and swallowed. “Of course.” _Nothing's happening, Loki is here and she's the impersonation of the perfect mum. There's nothing that could go wrong_ , he tried to reassure himself while he took a hold of the tunic's rim and then pulled it over his head in one swift motion. Just to keep talking, he said: “My body is already disposing of it, I think I just sweated out a big part of it yesterday, so... it's just a matter of time, really. I have no idea if it left any permanent damage though.” He stared at the cushions next to Frigga intently while she leaned forward to look at the black lines around the reactor. They had slightly faded already – not completely, but they were a lot less visible than two days before.

 

With Loki next to him, and a lot of resolve, he managed not to freak out while Frigga examined him with careful touches (she always asked before making contact, but he never managed more than a hasty nod in response) and magic (whatever she did there, but it felt almost more intimate than touching him). In the end, she told Loki that she'd give them something that Tony should eat with his meals, but otherwise leave the palladium to his body to deal with. He felt the tension drain from his shoulders when he finally had the tunic on again and dared to meet Frigga's eyes again. What he saw was disturbingly close to pity, and he really didn't need any of that.

 

Before he could say anything to drive the emotion out of her gaze, there was a knock on the door. The queen looked surprised, but called out for the visitor to come in. A young girl slipped through the door, apparently a servant, and leaned down to whisper something in the queen's ear. Frigga's eyes widened for a moment, but she schooled her expression into calmness again with a glance towards Tony and Loki.

 

The girl hurried out of the room again and Frigga rose from her seat and said: “You, both of you, need to leave. _Now_. I will pass the potion to you later on, but you cannot stay here now.”

 

Loki regarded her with a concerned frown and asked: “What happened? Why do...”

 

“Not now, Loki!”, she interrupted and urged her son towards the exit with a hand between his shoulder blades, Tony following her wordlessly and confused. “I will explain everything to you, but I cannot have you and Anthony here while...” She opened the door and stopped dead in her tracks for a second before she plastered a polite smile onto her face. “Freyja! What a lovely surprise. Why don't you come in?” Tony felt like all air had left his lungs. In front of him, Loki had clenched his fists tightly and was taking a deep, slow breath. “My son was just about to leave.”

 

“Oh, no”, the goddess responded with a silky laugh. “I was here to see him and his little... friend, anyway.” Her voice was smooth and full of fake friendliness.

 

“I think Loki has somewhere to be”, Frigga replied coolly and opened the door a bit wider.

 

“It's fine, I have time”, the mage cut in, his voice carefully levelled. “Anthony, would you...”

 

“He stays here, too”, Freyja interrupted.

 

“He has better things to do”, Loki responded sharply. Tony, standing behind him so he couldn't really see Freyja, swallowed and tried to keep his breathing from becoming erratic. Loki would handle this and whatever Freyja wanted from _him_ , it would turn out okay. For sure. Right?

 

“Oh, but I _insist_ ”, the goddess answered, her voice spiked with a sudden sharpness now. “I think you owe me a little favour, don't you, Loki?”

 

For a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence until the prince took a step back to let Freyja in without a word. Frigga gave him a worried look (did she know about the dress thing?) and closed the door, following the others back inside.

 

Freyja had taken a seat in the armchair that Frigga had occupied before. The other seats, one couch and two other armchairs, were situated opposite from the one the goddess sat in, creating the atmosphere of a trial with the three others in front of her like sitting before a judge. Loki guided Tony to sit down next to him on the couch, Frigga on his other side, and glared at their uninvited guest with his hands clenched to fists in his lap. The engineer did his best not to fidget at his side, but he could feel panic building up inside of him and there was no way that was going to get better anytime soon.

 

Freyja watched them with a self-satisfied little smile until Loki broke the silence, speaking up with a cutting edge to his voice: “I know that you want compensation, so why delay this any longer? There is nothing I cannot give you, name your wish and then _leave_.” The way he pronounced the last word, he could have said _die_ as well.

 

“I am fully aware that there is nothing I could ask for that would be really difficult to arrange for a royal prince of Asgard”, Freyja stated, still with that smug little smile on her lips. “I will not ask for gold, jewellery or anything the like. I am sure that it is in both our best interest if we keeps these incidents under wraps, isn't it? To ensure that, I think money will just not do.”

 

“I did not ask you for what you _don't_ wish for”, Loki responded, his voice tense, and spread his arms slightly. “Tell me what you want. Artefacts? Books? Spells? Secrets? Anything in my possession, just choose something.”

 

“Anything in your possession?”, Freyja repeated, leaning forward with her eyes shining like those of a dangerous animal. Tony felt ice creep up his spine as he understood. _Loki, no_ , he thought, staring at the god with wide eyes and biting his lip so he didn't blurt out anything stupid. _Don't say anything wrong now, this is..._

 

“Anything”, the prince confirmed and Tony curled a hand around his own wrist, nails digging into his skin, to suppress the urge to stand up and run the moment he heard the word. _You idiot, don't tell me you didn't get that, why did you..._ He tore his gaze away from Loki and met Freyja's eyes that had settled on him with a cold, satisfied glint in them.

 

Without breaking eye-contact with Tony, a sharp grin on her lips, she stated: “I want _him_.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you notice how I never pulled a cliffhanger during these last few chapters? Yeah? Here you go.
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/4344071 --> By the way, I wanted to tack this to the chapter notes in the last chapter but forgot (*shame on me*). It's a periodic table of the elements that stars, for example, Badassium ;) Go check it out!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is having a *little* breakdown. Shouting ensues.

“I want _him_ ”, Freyja stated with a sharp, predatory grin. Tony flinched as if she had hit him and her grin widened, turning sadistic without any hint of shame.

 

But what was much, _much_ worse than her demand was Loki's response: “I accept.”

 

“Wait, _what_?”, he blurted out, moving away from the prince, his eyes wide with horror. Somewhere in the background he heard Frigga say something about how there surely was another way, but he couldn't be brought to focus on that. “You can't be –“

 

Loki didn't even look at him as he interrupted: “Silence, Anthony.”

 

“Silence”, Tony repeated incredulously. His heart hammered against his ribs as if trying to break free, trying to escape his body because of his sudden panic. “Silence my ass, I thought you –“

 

The prince did turn this time as he snarled, his voice sharp enough to cut through stone: “Are you going to make me repeat myself?” Tony stared at him and it took all the resolve he had to not stand up and bolt from the room. The way he had started to tremble, he wouldn't have made it far anyway. With his fists clenched in the cushions of the couch, he watched as Loki turned back towards Freyja and continued: “As I was saying – yes, I accept. Under one condition.”

 

“Setting conditions now, are we?”, the goddess asked, obviously amused in some twisted kind of way.

 

Loki leaned back and crossed his arms as he responded: “While you surely do have something to hold against me, let us not forget that you organized an ambush on a prince of Asgard during a time of peace. I do not believe that you would like Odin to hear about that unfortunate incident.”

 

Freyja was silent for a moment and Tony stared back and forth between the two. This wasn't happening. This _couldn't_ be happening, Loki would never, ever do something like that. After all, he... _When did you start to trust him, idiot? You should know better than that by now._ He forced himself to listen to the course of the conversation so he didn't lose his grip on himself entirely. Not in front of them. Not in front of Loki.

 

“What would that condition be?”

 

“Nothing but a small delay. I am sure that you will be present for Thor's upcoming coronation, won't you?”, Loki asked. “I will hand him over on the day Thor becomes king of Asgard. That is all I ask for.” Was Tony supposed to be flattered by that? _Give me a month and then you can have him_.

 

“How touching”, Freyja said with malicious joy. “So be it then.” She stood up, gathering her skirts around her, and stepped forward so she could lean down in front of Tony. Her long fingers brushed along his jawline and the inventor wanted nothing more than break her delicate nose with his forehead. Instead, he sat there in a state not unlike paralysis as she whispered, close enough for her breath to ghost over his skin: “I cannot wait.” Then, she bowed before Frigga with a curt “Your Highness” before leaving the room.

 

As soon as the door closed behind her, the three crystal glasses that stood on the table exploded into hundreds of little shards and Tony flinched again, pressing his back into the cushions. Trembling, he wrapped his arms around his torso and tried to breathe deeply. He was going into full panic mode and there was nothing he could do about it.

 

“How I _loathe_ this disgusting, foul-mouthed, two-faced whore”, Loki spat next to him, followed by a scandalised “ _Loki!_ ” from Frigga. The prince ignored his mother and Tony could see sparks of green light dance around his fingertips as he strode through the room, looking like he was desperately seeking for something to throw against a wall. “I cannot _believe_ this, how does she dare to make demands after what she did? I should have murdered her right then and there, I could have portrayed it as self-defence, nobody would have batted an eye, not even her brother would have mourned this wench. He would probably have thanked me for it, too.”

 

“Loki, it is enough”, Frigga cut in sharply while she rushed to Tony's side. He winced as she reached out to touch his shoulder, so she settled for kneeling down in front of him and staring at him out of her blue-grey eyes. In the quiet voice that only mothers use to calm their kids down after a particularly bad nightmare, she murmured: “Calm yourself, Anthony. You are safe here, nothing will happen...” And so on.

 

 _Yeah,_ here _I'm just fine,_ Tony wanted to reply, _the problem is what I'm going to do when I'm_ not _here anymore because your son just sold me out without even trying to do anything about it._ He didn't speak anything of that out loud, though, because he didn't think that his voice would last for more than two words.

 

“Anthony”, Loki's voice chimed in after... he really didn't know when, it couldn't be more than a minute, “we are leaving.” Frigga turned a glare his way and opened her mouth to object, but the god continued over her: “Please, mother, I will take care of him, you know I will, but it won't be here.”

 

 _Yeah, keep talking about me like I'm not here, it's fine. You'll get rid of me soon, anyway._ Tony looked up at the prince who stood next to the door with an impatient, expectant look. Standing up from the couch and walking over to him, still with his arms wrapped around himself, felt like the hardest thing he had ever done. If there was one person he didn't want to be near to right now, it was Loki. _Welcome to Obie 2.0, ladies and gentlemen, enjoy your ride, but don't expect anything new to happen. We've had all of this before._ The god held the door open for him and then walked ahead without speaking a single word. Tony followed, equally silent, and was just glad that the quarters of the royal family members weren't far from each other since he wasn't sure how long he would be able to keep it together. All he wanted to do right now was curl up and die somewhere.

 

_No, all I want to do is go home and find a place where not every single person I trust ends up betraying me._

 

He barely noticed arriving to Loki's wing until the prince opened the door to his quarters. Tony moved to side-step him so he could reach his own room, but the mage stepped in front of him and shook his head: “Come in, Anthony. I won't leave you alone in that state.”

 

“Yeah, because you would care, wouldn't you”, the engineer laughed bitterly, taking a step back and glaring at Loki.

 

“Of course I care”, came the reply, but Loki looked clearly exasperated. “Now come in.”

 

“You know, I don't think I will”, Tony responded. “I'm totally peachy on my own, thanks anyway. Now, if you don't mind...”

 

“Anthony, just get into the room.”

 

“Why would I listen to anything you say? It's all bullshit anyway, I don't know why I ever started to believe you.” Fandral's words came back to his mind. “Possessive, protective, my ass. The only thing you're protective about is your princely honour.”

 

“Would you quit making such a scene!”, the mage snapped sharply.

  
“ _Making a scene?!_ ”, Tony repeated, his voice rising to a shout. “So I'm making a scene now? Well, I'm really fucking sorry for being” _absolutely goddamn panicked_ “just a _tiny_ bit upset here, but I guess it's my fault for having expectations, isn't it?”

 

“You are _not_ yelling at me!”, Loki shouted.

 

“Yes, I _am_ yelling at you!”, the inventor screamed back. “I do what I fucking want!”

 

“Enough!”, the prince barked. “Inside. _Now_. You go or I swear, I am going to drag you in. By your hair, if I must, but this stops now!” Tony glared at him, his fists clenched by his side, but couldn't muster the courage to keep objecting. Filled with a mixture of fear and anger, he stepped inside and heard Loki slam the door shut hard enough to make the inventor wince. Then, there was a sigh from behind him and the god spoke up again: “If you listened to what I said to Freyja –“

 

“I was listening just fine!”, Tony yelled, whirling around to face Loki. “I'm pretty sure I memorized every fucking syllable of how you told her that she's free to do whatever she wants _with me_ to get her revenge _on you_!”

 

“Congratulations, now could we move on to the important parts?”, the prince drawled sarcastically.

 

“Important parts?!”, Tony repeated incredulously. He wanted to keep screaming, yelling, shouting, anything, but instead, his voice sounded drained and hopeless. “Important parts. You mean apart from you granting her to have her way with me. You're actually – I can't believe you're real. But what the fuck did I expect from a slave holder, anyway.”

 

For a moment, Loki was very, very silent. The inventor saw his hand ball into a fist as if he longed to hit something and Tony took a careful step backwards. As Loki raised his arm in a sudden movement, he jerked back, almost stumbling over his own feet, but the god merely pointed at the door and ordered in a cold, levelled voice: “Out. I do not want to see you setting as much as a foot out of your room until I can talk to you reasonably again.”

 

“Oh, am I grounded now, mum?”, Tony bit out.

 

“If you insist on acting like a child, then I shall treat you accordingly”, the mage answered sharply, stepping aside in a clear gesture of _here is the door, now get the bloody hell out._

 

With a last glare, Tony obeyed. He didn't stomp through the hallway, but he did slam the door to his chamber hard enough to make his ears hurt. The following silence felt like it was physically pressing down on him and now, without anyone there to watch him, he simply gave in and slid down onto the floor, his back leaning against the wall, and pulled his knees to his chest so he could wrap his arms around them. With a shuddering sigh, he rested his forehead on his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn't going to cry now. Wasn't, wasn't, wasn't...

 

Well, it wasn't like anybody was there to see him, anyway.

 

He didn't even want to start to imagine what Freyja would be like. This wasn't about him, he had understood that from the start, but she wanted to hit Loki where it hurt. Take revenge for something that had happened ages ago, and since she couldn't get to the prince directly, she wanted to find something that was precious to him so she could hurt him through it. Well, judging by the prince's absolute lack of will to defend Tony, he wasn't what she had been looking for. For some ridiculous reason, that thought stung more than just a little.

 

But far greater than the pain of Loki's betrayal – because that was what it felt like, although the god hadn't owned him anything – was the fear of going back. Back to the life of an ordinary slave – a slave that was solely held for the purpose of being broken. Tony curled in on himself even tighter. He had fought against this... this  _hell_ he had been tossed into for months, but he wasn't sure how long he would be able to continue. There was a breaking point to every person and he really wasn't sure how far he could push himself before reaching it.

 

_ And now you're curled up in your room and crying your eyes out _ , the sarcastic part of his mind said.  _ Doesn't look like there's much leeway for you when you're talking about breaking points. _

 

Crying hurt. Every time his chest constricted with a sob, it caused a stab of pain from the arc reactor which didn't do anything to calm him down. He couldn't go back there, he  _couldn't_ , there was no way he would be able to stay himself through something like that. Loki couldn't do this to him. He couldn't – couldn't –

 

Except that he already had. It was like the palladium all over again, he was just waiting for it to take effect and kill him slowly, gradually, but just as inevitably as if he would jump out of the chamber's window right away. The idea didn't even sound all that bad.

 

Taking a deep breath (or at least trying to), he shook his head. He was not giving up. He'd rather stand through everything Freyja subjected him to than giving up. His mind was all he had now.

 

It didn't do anything to cheer him up.

 

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, sobbing like a child and curled up tightly, like it would keep the world from noticing him and his thoughts, spiralling in the same way over and over again, but by the time he heard the knock at the door, his neck was stiff and his back cracked when he straightened himself up and hastily wiped his face with his sleeve. He was aware that it probably wouldn't do much to improve his appearance, but it was the thought that counted, right? Depending on who was outside, he wouldn't even have to open the door.

 

“What?”, he snapped – or, at least, he tried to. It came out as a hoarse croak and he winced at hearing his own voice. He sounded terrible. Like... well, like someone who had cried. A lot. Damn.

 

Someone tried to open the door from outside, but since Tony was still sitting in front of it, it only moved about an inch before his body stopped it. After a moment, Loki's voice (well, who else would it be) came from outside: “Really, now? Let me in, Anthony.”

 

The inventor desperately tried to muster some of the fury that had made him shout at Loki before, but even then, it had been a masquerade covering the shock and betrayal he had felt. Now? There was nothing left that let him pretend. Like he had cried all of his resistance out.

 

With stiff movements, he got to his feet and pulled the door open, staring at the tips of Loki's boots as he did so. He barely heard the prince's “I brought lunch, Marianne would kill me if I let you starve”, just stepped aside to let him enter. “You can talk to me, you know”, Loki continued. “Silence is not changing anything. Or are you ready to listen to me now?” There was the soft clinking of dishes being set up while Tony still stood awkwardly at the door. He hadn't stopped staring at the floor since Loki had entered – his hair had grown and hid his eyes as long as he kept his eyes on the carpet, but he knew that as soon as he looked up, the god would see the state he was in. It was something he definitely didn't want to show him. “You are aware, though, that ignoring me will not solve your problems”, the mage stated.

 

“And talking to you will”, Tony shot back sarcastically before he could think about it (brain-to-mouth-filter, goddammit!). He heard Loki still in his movements as he heard the engineer's raspy voice. _Are you seriously unable to shut up even once in your life?_ In the awkward silence, he could hear every step that the mage took into his direction and stubbornly kept staring down at his feet. He wasn't sure where his body got all the water from – his head already hurt like hell – but he felt himself tear up again, another reason not to meet Loki's gaze right now. Instead, he bit his lower lip, _hard_ , and told himself that it didn't matter any more either way. 

 

For a moment, Loki stood in front of him, apparently waiting for him to look up by himself, but when it became clear that he wouldn't, he instructed: “Look at me, Anthony.” Tony shook his head silently, his shoulders shaking. It was incredible of how much crying his body was capable. What cracked him up was the quiet “Please” that Loki added after some seconds.

 

“You can't let her take me”, he blurted out, his voice wavering, finally looking up at the prince. He saw Loki's eyes widen as soon as they met his, saw him opening his mouth to say something, but he talked over him as long as he could still speak in (mostly) coherent sentences. Fisting his hands in the god's tunic, he repeated: “You can't let her take me, Loki, I can't do that, _you_ can't do that, you need to let me stay here – _please_ , I can't go back to that, I'll do whatever you want, but I- I... don't let her... I can't...”

 

Finally, Loki seemed to overcome his initial surprise. He grasped Tony's arms tightly, leaning down until he was on eye-level, and interrupted with something that sounded like horror in his tone: “Oh dear Norns, Anthony, calm down!”

 

The inventor talked over him because _no,_ he was definitely not ready to _calm down_ now: “I mean it, you can't let her do that, I... I'll stop talking back at you if that's what you want, I'll stop annoying you, but please don't give me away...” Loki laid a finger onto his lips in another attempt to hush him, but Tony still continued, shaking his head slightly: “Anything, Loki, I'll do anything, but I can't go back there, I really can't –“

 

He felt Loki's hand on the back of his head as the palm of his other closed over Tony's mouth, effectively silencing him. The engineer stared up at him, suppressing a sob that turned into a small hiccup. In a quiet, urgent voice, the prince said: “Now, if you would finally start listening to me, I could explain what I meant to tell you all along. She is not going to lay a finger on you, I promise. She will not touch you, do you hear me?” He lifted his hand enough for the other to speak.

 

“B-but you said”, Tony stammered, his voice breaking, “you said that she would...”

 

“Stop, stop, breathe”, the god ordered. “Think about what I said. You have such a beautiful mind, Anthony, use it. I set a condition, didn't I? I told her that I would hand you over the day Thor becomes king of Asgard.”

 

“I know, I heard that”, the engineer responded. “So you delayed it, but that still doesn't mean that she can't...”

 

“Thor's coronation”, Loki cut him off, “is not going to take place!” Tony blinked, trying to process the mage's words. “When I said I wanted to delay it so Thor would have time to grow more mature, more suited for his task, then I didn't talk about making him wait three days more. Freyja agreed to a contract that is only valid when Thor is king. It could be _years_ until that condition is fulfilled – and we have more than enough time to find a way out of this agreement. If it is necessary, I am going to kill her myself, no matter who knows about it, but I _never_ planned on letting her take you, Anthony. If you just would have listened to me – I had no idea you were this upset. I wouldn't have left you alone if I had.”

 

“Upset”, Tony repeated, trying to ignore the hitch in his own voice. “Upset. I was fucking terrified, you asshole. I mean – my god, oh my _god_ , I thought you were actually going to... to... oh god.” He took a shuddering breath, trying to wrap his head around what he had just heard. Loki had a plan. Loki had a plan and... “And you couldn't fucking tell me about this just a teeny bit earlier?”

 

“I tried to, but _someone_ wouldn't listen”, Loki countered.

 

Tony took a deep breath and wiped his face with a shaking hand. His next words sounded more stable again: “Did you expect me to sit there and smile when I thought that you had... had done that?”

 

“Are we really starting this anew now?”

 

“I... we... no. No, let's not do that.” He cleared his throat. “Okay. Okay then.” One of his hands was still clenched around the fabric of Loki's tunic and he considered letting go so he could step back and sit down because the relief had made him almost dizzy, but he really didn't want to move right now. He settled for talking some more, just to fill the silence that had begun to fill the room. “Promise me that you never do something like that or God help me, I'll have a heart attack. Maybe I'll just faint like some damsel in distress.” He sighed over-dramatically and brought the back of his hand to his forehead in a mock-gesture of losing consciousness, but quickly turned serious again. “Promise”, he reminded.

 

“I do not make promises I cannot keep”, Loki answered with the hint of a smile. “Making enemies is something I seem to be very good at.” That would have sounded innocent, embarrassed even, if it weren't for the devious, cheeky smirk on the prince's face. “But I do promise that I will make sure to keep you out of harm's way.”

 

“I'll take your word for that. If I gotta buy a tombstone, I'll pass the bill over to you”, Tony mumbled. Underneath his hand ( _still_ holding on to Loki's tunic – he should let go now, shouldn't he?), he could feel the god's pulse and with a heavy sigh, he looped his arms around Loki's waist and hid his face in the soft fabric of his tunic. Immediately, the prince's arms wrapped around him. “But I do trust you to keep your word”, he muttered very quietly.

 

Loki's embrace only tightened in response and Tony forced himself to exhale, trying to get rid of the last of the panic and the bitter taste of betrayal – because there had been no betrayal. Loki was still on his side. There was nothing he had to fear. And while that probably was an overstatement, it was so easy to believe right now where he was being held tightly and full of oh-thank-god-I'm-not-dying-endorphins that he decided to indulge the feeling just a little while longer.

 

When he felt... well, sort of calm again, he slowly stepped backwards without leaving Loki's space just yet. They were barely more than a few inches apart and Tony shot the god a small smile. The prince leaned down and for a moment, the inventor froze in expectation, eyes fixed on Loki and his pulse suddenly leaping into his throat, but then the god just breathed a kiss into his tousled hair and whispered: “I want you to know that I would never sell you out like this. Never. Do you understand that?” The engineer nodded weakly. “Good. Now, I believe Marianne has made something wonderful for lunch and I am sure that you will want to eat something.”

 

“Was that an order?”, he asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Consider it one, if you will. She would behead us if we didn't eat up. Now come on.”

 

It might be the aforementioned high on endorphins or maybe just the general mix of confusion and stress and relief that messed up his mind, but Tony found that he wouldn't have minded if Loki had kissed him just now.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, this chapter didn't turn out the way I wanted it to - I hope you liked it anyway!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki begins a prank war. Tony is having way too much fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on time for once! :D  
> This chapter is basically just a really fluffy interlude and an apology because from the next chapter on, this story is going DOWN. So I hope this makes up for it. A little.

“I'm having a mid-life crisis”, Tony announced to the ceiling of his room. He was laying on his bed, spread-eagled atop of the blanket, and staring upwards. “A mid-life-crisis-induced sexuality crisis, and that's a thing now because I said it. And I'm also talking to my ceiling, but that's not important right now.” With a long-suffering wail, he turned around and buried his face in a pillow. “I am not attracted to men”, he muttered, muffled by the fabric pressing against his mouth, “I am not attracted to men, I am not... not... oh dear Lord, this is so fucking ridiculous, could someone just kill me already.” He wasn't attracted to men.

 

He  _ did _ have eyes though and, from a purely heterosexual point of view, could say that Loki was really nice to look at. 

 

Purely. Heterosexual. Way.  _ Shut the hell up, brain.  _

 

After grumbling into his pillow some more, Tony decided that there were more productive ways to spend his time and reluctantly swung his legs off the bed. It was still early and he had – despite Loki's reassurances and promises – not slept well, he had woken up several times during the night and had never quite fallen back to sleep, so at some point, he had decided that tossing and turning for any longer wouldn't really be restful.

 

He bathed, got dressed, shaved and it was still dark outside – just what the hell did early risers do with their time? There was literally nothing he could think of.

 

Well, actually... with a smirk, he slipped into his leather boots. Maybe there  _ was _ something he could do, something that would pass the time and... and possibly atone for his behaviour from the day before, although he didn't believe that Loki would hold that against him. Still, in hindsight, he felt ridiculous. Might as well make up for that, since he didn't have anything better to do.

 

He sneaked past Loki's room and nodded towards the guards in front of the prince's wing, trying to look more at ease than he actually was, and tried to find his way to the kitchen. It  _ did _ take him longer than when Loki had went with him, but in his estimation, he had only turned about three wrong corners and found his way without help eventually. The palace's hallways were surprisingly quiet, the only ones up were servants who scurried past him with their eyes on the ground and their shoulders hunched. Seeing it made Tony stand up straighter out of reflex – he was never going to be of the kind who desperately tried not to be seen. No matter how hard he was pushed, that was just not him.

 

With his full weight, he pushed against the door of the kitchen, half-expecting it to be locked or the room to be empty, but he was greeted by the same familiar smell as during his last visits. Someone had to prepare breakfast for their Royal Highnesses, after all. Quietly, he slipped into the room, which was much more quiet at this time in the morning, and stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking around for somebody he knew before he spotted Marianne and sighed in relief. For someone who was supposed to be a slave, he was surprisingly clueless when it came to actually doing something slave-ish.

 

He approached Marianne carefully and was relieved when she turned around before he said something. A smile spread on her face and she greeted him enthusiastically while pinching his cheek like he was eight years old again: “Anthony, you look so much better than just a few days ago, my boy. And in Loki's colours, I see! They do suit you.”

 

“'anks”, Tony replied, “'ut you could let go o' my face now.”

 

“Of course, dear”, the cook answered with a large smile. “Now, what is it you're here for at this time in the morning?”

 

“Well, I...” The inventor rubbed his cheek with a hand. “I just wanted to... uh... You don't possibly know what Loki likes for breakfast, do you?”

 

“Of course I do, I have served him breakfast before he could do so much as order it”, Marianne responded and beckoned Tony to follow her. He complied and tried not to think about a chubby baby Loki with large, green eyes and small, clumsy hands wrapped around a silver spoon while he uttered incoherent syllables of baby garble. Marianne kept talking about how Loki had always loved the sweet things, and the image of baby Loki in Tony's head got an additional smudge of chocolate on its cheek. Awww.

 

Together with Marianne, he put a breakfast together that included some soft and probably sweet pastries and the porridge that they had eaten some days before. When Marianne wasn't looking, Tony slipped some more berries into Loki's bowl, remembering how the prince had picked them out to eat first when they had had breakfast together. Not that he had memorized that. It had just stuck with him because it was so adorable. No. Weird. It was weird, yeah, that's the word.

 

“You're so hopeless”, he muttered to himself under his breath, shaking his head, and put the two bowls onto a tray together with the sweet pastries.

 

“What was that?”, Marianne asked with a quirked eyebrow, looking more amused than offended.

 

“Uh, nothing, nothing at all”, the engineer replied hurriedly and picked the tray up from the counter. “Thanks, I'll be going then. Wanna be back before he wakes up.”

 

“A surprise!”, she exclaimed with delight. “You, young people, are so sweet with each other.” Tony sputtered and was about to reply, but she just waved it off and placed two mugs and a kettle on his tray before she patted him on the back. “Go, Loki is an early riser. Shush.” She practically shoved him out of the doors and Tony sighed. She was just a funny old woman with a mother complex. It didn't matter what she thought.

 

He considered knocking when he stood in front of Loki's door, but since his hands were full, that wasn't really an option. He pressed the ornate door handle down with his elbow and leaned against the door with his back (goddamn Asgardian doors). He shuffled into the room quietly as soon as the gap was wide enough. Outside of the window, it was only just starting to dawn and the prince was tangled up in his bedsheets, a completely peaceful expression on his face, his lips slightly parted and black hair tousled. Tony caught himself staring for a second too long and winced as the door clicked shut behind him with a small thud. The sound made Loki stir and the inventor hurried over to the desk they had eaten at before, but it was already covered in scrolls and quills again. He really didn't want to mess with any of that.

 

After a moment of indecision, he looked at the sky outside again and slipped out onto the balcony, placing the tray on the bench that stood next to the wall. Then, he entered the room again and moved towards Loki's bed. The god had pulled his blanket up around his shoulders and was curled up on his side, which was (once again judged with a purely heterosexual point of view, of course) absolutely adorable.

 

Tony cleared his throat and leaned down. How did you wake a prince? Quietly, he called out: “Loki? Wakey-wakey?” Loki turned around and pulled the blanket over his head. “Seriously now? Come on, you big baby, you're the early riser”, the engineer grumbled. “The sun's smiling for you, blah blah blah, give me your attention or I'm going to steal your blanket!”

 

“What is it?”, the god's muffled voice mumbled from under the covers. “Nightmare?” He raised the blanket with an arm as if inviting Tony to join him while he muttered: “It's fine, come here...”

 

Tony took a few steps back and shook his head, torn between laughing and groaning in exasperation. “I am not joining you in bed, you lazy sleepyhead, you're supposed to get up! No cuddles for you.” Dear god, was he blushing? He wasn't, nope. Loki hadn't even meant it like that, he was half-asleep, he couldn't be taken seriously. “Not snuggling, waking up. You. Come on.” Another advantage of the god not being quite awake yet was that there was a chance that he would just forget Tony's embarrassing ramble.

 

Finally, Loki opened his eyes and blinked at him, tired and apparently confused, before sitting up slowly and running a hand through his tousled hair. “What is it?”, he repeated, voice heavy with sleep, and the adorable image made the inventor laugh. For the first time, he really missed something as trivial as a camera.

 

“I brought breakfast”, he replied, “but I'll eat all the berries if you don't come.”

 

Sighing, the prince rubbed a hand over his eyes and blinked. “You?”, he asked. “You, the most disobedient, unusual, insolent, non-slavish slave I have ever met, have made breakfast? What did they do to you?” From anybody else, the enumeration of adjectives would have been insulting, but Loki made them sound fond and slightly amused.

 

“I  _ can _ be nice, you know”, Tony responded sulkily. “But I can eat it on my own, that's no problem, I'll just go and...”

 

“Hush, hush, I am up”, the god interrupted with a small laugh, tossing the blanket aside. “That might be the one chance I get in my whole life to be actually  _ served  _ by you.”

 

“Shut up or I'll really eat it alone”, the inventor grumbled and pointed towards the balcony. “Out there. The sun's rising right now, that's a wonderful picture.” He wasn't sure when had he started to appreciate things like that, but maybe he had needed _not_ being able to see them to be able to worship them.

 

He chose not to think about that too closely as he followed Loki outside and gestured towards the tray on the bench. True to his word, the first rays of sunlight were colouring the sky in a soft red, contrasting with the dark blue that still hung over most of Asgard. Loki, still in dark green silk pyjamas, sleepy eyes and tousled hair, sat down with a smile towards the morning sky and Tony was, for once, completely content with fulfilling his tasks as a slave when he put one of the bowls with the porridge into the prince's hands before sitting down next to him and taking his own. It was something else with Loki; he wasn't  _ forced _ to do it, he had chosen to do it himself and it was appreciated and not taken for granted. It didn't feel like slavery at all. 

 

He saw Loki glancing into his own bowl, definitely noticing the unusual amount of the strange, sweet berries in it, and had to smile at the way the god's face lit up at the sight.

 

“Thank you”, the prince said with a bright smile and Tony stared at him in surprise.  _ That  _ was unexpected. Loki was actually thanking him for something that should be normal, expected from a slave. Not only that, but the fact that someone was thanking him at all – nobody had done that in ages – rendered Tony speechless for a moment, but Loki, still sleepy and relaxed, didn't seem to notice.

 

“Just, uh... don't get used to it”, the inventor muttered and started to eat (and  _ no _ , he was not picking the berries out one by one like Loki did, it was enough if one of them had that silly habit, wasn't it?), watching the sun rise over the railing of the balcony and, for some minutes, not talking at all. They took their time to finish and the silence was comfortable, a pleasant absence of mindless chatter or conversations about bothersome topics. 

 

It had to end, though, and when they both had finished off the last bits of their pastries and had mugs of tea in their hands, the prince turned towards him and asked: “Is something wrong?”

 

Tony huffed into his tea and rolled his eyes. “Is me, not acting like a prick for once, such a big deal?” He didn't want to admit that it was sort of an apology for the day before – he knew he didn't  _ need _ to apologize, but still, he knew that their quarrel could probably have been avoided if he had just listened. Not that Loki had made no mistake at all, but... well. No use thinking about that now. “I just didn't sleep very well”, he admitted, “and was bored, so I thought I could do something with my time. I hope I didn't wake you too early, by the way, but Marianne said you were an early riser.”

 

“I am”, Loki reassured. “And you could have come to me if you had nightmares.”

 

“Still not a cuddler”, the engineer muttered.

 

“I didn't say anything about cuddling, did I?”, the god asked with a raised eyebrow and Tony stared down at his tea, praying that Loki would take his flush as an effect of the red sunlight. “I merely offered company.”

 

The inventor cleared his throat. “Well”, he murmured, “I, uh...” Time to initiate a subtle change of topic. “So I've been thinking about Freyja”, he announced, making the god frown. “Wanna tell me about your plan?”

 

Loki is quiet for a moment – Tony's change of topic hadn't been  _ that _ subtle, after all. He'd probably have to work on that. But after some seconds, he nodded slowly and began: “I cannot tell you every detail, but I think it will be enough.” He leaned back against the wall, apparently thinking about what he was going to reveal and how. “The ceremony  _ will _ begin”, he explained slowly, “but I have taken care that a...  _ distraction _ will end it before Thor is actually king. Therefore, the bargain with Freyja will not take effect.”

 

“Okay”, Tony said, drawing the word out long. “So the ceremony is going to be initiated, with guests and everything?”

 

“It will”, the prince confirmed.

 

“So we've got to make it look like we're keeping the deal”, the inventor stated. “How do you transfer slaves in Asgard? Is there a contract? As in, a written one? Are there special ceremonies, do...”

 

“Stop”, Loki interrupted. Tony looked up to see the god's jaw clenched.

 

“Stop what?”, the inventor asked, confusion written openly in his face. “I'm just trying to...”

 

“Stop talking about yourself like that”, the prince cut in sharply. “Like you are... an  _ object _ , an item to trade with.”

 

“But that's what all this is based on, Loki”, he responded.

 

“I  _ know _ !”, Loki snapped and Tony flinched at the sudden increase in volume. Quieter, the mage repeated: “I know, but hearing you talk about yourself like this... it feels wrong.” He sighed. 

 

“Really, now?”, the inventor asked, unable to keep a hint of cynicism out of his voice. “You know, you did buy me. Like someone buys an object.”

 

“Could we  _ not _ fight again?”, the prince asked, exasperation clear on his features. “It leads nowhere and you know that just as good as I do, so drop it now.” Tony tore his gaze away and looked at the sky because Loki's eyes looked far too open and honest as he quietly continued: “You know that you are so much more than that.”

 

That didn't leave much room to make a witty reply, so Tony just didn't. He sipped at his tea, stared at the sky and waited for the moment to pass because he didn't feel like he was able to deal with it right now. Loki didn't bring it back up either when the engineer finally asked: “So, what will we do now? Not about her, I mean, but now. As in, right now.”

 

The prince looked down at his silk pyjamas and replied: “I suppose I should make myself presentable, and after that... I think I know just what to do with our time.” The mischievous glint in his eyes promised that it would be a lot of things, but, definitely, not boring.

 

#

 

An hour later, they were on their way to another breakfast with Thor and his friends. Loki, still grinning in a way that promised mayhem, insisted that they should pick Fandral up on their way to Thor's room – despite the fact that the thunder god's quarters were a lot closer than Fandral's. But Loki obviously had some sort of plan, so Tony followed him without complaints.

 

They met the swordsman just as he was leaving his quarters and Tony couldn't help but feel a bit of pity as he saw Fandral's eyes widen at the sight of Loki approaching. Pining over somebody who didn't want you was a horrible thing and to do it for centuries? Being immortal was probably not always pleasant. Not when it came to that sort of thing.

 

With a slight shake of his head, he forced those thoughts into the back of his mind and watched the prince greeting Fandral. The blond threw an arm around Loki's shoulders and pulled him to his side while walking, and to Tony's surprise, Loki let it happen, his mischievous grin only growing. _Something_ seemed wrong about that, something was off, not quite right...

 

... _or it's just you being jealous_ , the unhelpful voice in his mind supplied.

 

_Shut up_ , he commanded grumpily. He had no reason to be jealous, that was ridiculous. Even when Loki actually leaned into the touch and clasped a hand over Fandral's – why should Tony care? It wasn't like he had any claim on Loki or something like that. Nope, he was just being irrational. And it was Fandral's fault. Everything was Fandral's fault, anyway.

 

“Don't look so sullen”, the swordsman whispered into his ear when they were about to enter the room, winking with a wide grin.

 

“Shut up, I'm not sulking”, Tony snapped, crossing his arms, and _no_ , he did _not_ stomp his foot while saying that.

 

Well, maybe a little.

 

But then, Loki ducked out from under Fandral's arm with a sweet smile and was at the inventor's side in an instant, leaning down to breathe softly: “There is no need to glare at us like that.” Tony just huffed as they sat down next to each other. “Let me show you something. Look around.” Tony obeyed, albeit confused, and studied the persons at the table. Thor was greeting Loki enthusiastically, sitting next to his warrior girl and opposite from his brother. On his other side sat the Asian-looking warrior (Hogun, if Tony remembered correctly) and Fandral had taken the seat next to him, a confusingly leering grin in place. Next to Loki sat the corpulent, axe-swinging, bearded warrior, busily stuffing his face with food. “Now, let me show you how Fandral sees this”, the prince whispered, touching Tony's hand under the table.

 

He needed a moment to tell the difference, but when he did, he had to feign a cough to hide his laughter. Next to Fandral sat, instead of Hogun, a beautiful, black-haired woman, and the swordsman was eagerly chatting her up. In a hushed voice, Tony demanded: “Wait, you did that? You mean Fandral sees...  _her_ , because of that?”

 

“Shht”, Loki silenced him, suppressing a chuckle but not quite succeeding, “you are too loud! Just wait. That is why I let him touch me, by the way. Bodily contact helps casting the spell.” The look in his eyes was far too knowing to be comfortable (but there _was_ nothing to know, right?), so Tony just turned to look across the table again. His vision had turned back to normal and Loki had withdrawn his hand, so Tony clasped his fingers around a mug of tea and raised it to hide his growing grin as he gazed across the table.

 

“Are you seeing someone, gorgeous?”, Fandral asked, earning an unimpressed look from Hogun. Tony wondered if he had ever heard the black-haired man saying anything. “I suppose not, seeing as you are obviously Thor's guest – oh, but I understand, I will have to work to make you even answer me, won't I? Fine then. Did anyone tell you today how wonderful your hair looks in that braid?” The others were starting to glance over at the pair – after all, Fandral was the only one subjected to the illusion. Tony didn't dare to take a sip of his tea because he might spit it all over the table when he started laughing. “What are your plans after you finished your meal? Whatever the answer is, I am sure I could be much more entertaining.” Tony coughed, trying desperately to keep himself in check. This was getting _good_. “Still not an answer? Oh dear, I see how it is”, Fandral continued with a confident smirk. He raised a hand and threaded it through the hair on Hogun's neck.

 

By now, Loki was the only one who was still seeming completely unimpressed – although Tony did see how he kept glancing towards two certain persons at the table. Hogun was finally looking up at Fandral, a mixture of confusion and annoyance on his features. Still, he did not say a word.

 

“Fandral, do you not think you are going a bit far?”, Sif spoke up sharply from Thor's other side.

 

The swordsman just grinned and leaned closer towards Hogun as he replied cockily: “I do not hear any protest – do you?” Directed at the man next to him, he continued: “I shall see if I can get a noise out of you when we are not in the company of others, dear.”

 

Apparently,  _that_ was overstepping a line, because Hogun snapped around and punched him in the face without any sign of warning. Fandral fell from his bench, apparently too stunned to regain his balance in time, and Loki choked on the bit of bread he had been chewing on. He waved a hand, apparently discarding the spell, because a moment later, Fandral bit out a string of violent curses and pointed an accusing finger at the god: “It was  _him_ , I know it, he...”

 

“He will have to be going, actually”, Loki cut in, standing up and pulling the inventor with him, “because there is... _something_ that needs attention. It was a joy to eat with you.” Before anyone could utter a word of protest, he and Tony disappeared in a whirl of black and green, re-materialising somewhere in the gardens, and the engineer leaned against Loki, clutching his sides as he _finally_ laughed freely. The god joined in without hesitation and they collapsed onto a near bench, both rendered speechless and howling with laughter.

 

“Did-”, Tony began after a minute, gasping for air and trying to suppress a fit of giggles before trying again, “did you see his _face_ when he realized it? Jesus, he looked _so_ done for a moment, I'm... I have literally nothing to add to that. That's rare, Lokes, that's rare. My god, laughing hurts. You're such an ass, did anyone ever tell you that? Fandral is going to _murder_ you.” 

 

“He is not”, Loki stated with a large grin. The bad thing about that was that he was probably right.

 

“He is not”, Tony agreed. “Still gonna be pissed, though.”

 

“Well”, the prince replied slowly, not commenting on the inventor's choice of words (not everyone was made for Shakespearian English, dammit), “maybe that means he will _not_ try to sleep with me for a week. That might be quite refreshing.” 

 

The dry comment sent Tony over the edge again and he crouched with his arms wrapped around himself as he started laughing anew. Loki's company was unhealthy, he was going to die from this one day. Suffocate, probably, if he didn't manage to breathe in-between his fits of giggles. The only thing that was missing now was Frigga walking in on them again. 

 

“By the way”, Loki added nonchalantly, studying his fingernails with deep fascination, “they might be more busy with getting Volstagg to wash out his mouth.”

 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Loki, what did you do?”

 

“ _Me_?”, the mage asked with a scandalised look. “I am innocent. Pure. But for some reason, Volstagg must have bitten into the wrong sort of pastry. He might find unhealthy amounts of pepper in there.”

 

“You're a horrible, horrible person”, Tony stated, although it wasn't like he was any better. He enjoyed this far too much to exclude himself from the god's pranking war.

 

“And if Sif uses the same hair lotion as yesterday”, Loki continued with an ever-growing, malicious grin, “she might wake up with an unusual hair colour tomorrow. What do you think, would green suit her?” Tony didn't even bother replying anymore. It would be hard to get a word out, anyway, he was too busy choking on his own laughter. “Also, Thor might find it difficult to lift Mjölnir today”, the prince drawled, crossing his legs and leaning back. “I might or might not have tried a new sort of extremely sticky substance on her. It _is_ his own fault when he leaves her on his night stand, though.”

 

“That's it, Lokes, I'm dead”, Tony announced. “I'm seriously, officially dead, I'm going to – god, I don't even know how I still speak so much.”

 

“Me neither”, Loki commented drily. “But there is still a castle full of people right in front of us, so I suggest you calm yourself and we go to... _entertain_ ourselves.”

 

“I am _so_ in for that.”

 

#

 

That was how they spent day eight. From there on, they followed a more or less normal routine, only interrupted by Loki's... carefully phrased,  _interesting_ ideas of entertainment. Tony couldn't say that he minded.

 

Day twelve ended with both of them covered in flour and the palace's kitchen in a mess.

 

Day fifteen involved horseback-riding and a stable boy who had really not deserved Loki's pranks.

 

Day nineteen began with Tony waking from a nightmare, but ended with both of them watching the sun go down in the gardens. Tony thought he had seen Frigga sneaking past them at some point, but he couldn't really be sure.

 

The day after that, Loki began to teach Tony how to read the Asgardian runes (which was about the most complicated thing he had ever tried to learn). Not too much later, he was able to roughly translate simple sentences, and it would be a lie to say that the glint of pride and fondness in Loki's eyes when Tony caught on to something wasn't almost half of his motivation.

 

There was one thing that Loki never was, and that was boring. There was always something to do, something to explore and explain, someone to taunt or to meet, a story to tell or a place to see. Time whirled past in a haze that was... surprisingly enjoyable, even with the coronation day looming over their heads.

 

When he stood in the workshop in front of the forge some days later, working on a pair of handcuffs (because  _if_ he was going to stand in front of Freyja in chains, then it would be his own), Tony realized with a slight shock that he had stopped counting the days.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will probably be a Loki special again! ^.^ Got some things planned out...


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last day before the coronation...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case any of you missed it, last week's update was a bonus chapter named "One Day". You'll find it in the series listing ;)

They were a work of art.

 

Tony took a deep breath, staring at the cuffs that were placed on the workbench before him. They weren't ordinary handcuffs as they had used them at the slave ships; no, they were a web of delicate, black and green metal threads, looking stable and at the same time ornate, fascinating. He stretched the chain between his hands before fastening it first on one part of the cuff, then the other, and mending the chain links so no matter how hard he pulled, they wouldn't come apart again.

 

With a smile that was equally relieved (because he was finally done with crafting these horrible things) and bitter (because crafting them was necessary), he unlocked them with the small, black key and set it down on the workbench. Then, he slipped the cuffs on and closed them tightly, but not tight enough to cut into his wrists, before experimentally trying to rip the chain apart or slipping out of them again. It didn't work. Of course it didn't, he had made them, after all.

 

The doors to the workshop opened and Tony turned around with a smile, raising a hand to wave at Loki, but the short chain of the cuffs stopped him.

 

“Hey there”, he greeted, trying to seem nonchalant. “How'd the council meeting go?”

 

“What are you doing?”, the prince asked, completely ignoring his question. His gaze was fixed on the cuffs and, okay, that did have to look weird.

 

“Call it a field test”, Tony answered, shrugging. “For Freyja, it's gotta look like you were actually going to hand me over, right? So there'll be chains. And I'd rather make my own ones than having to go in the standard issue.” He shrugged again, trying to make it look less tense than he actually was (while he was probably fidgeting like some kid). He'd learned to act in these past few months, but he wasn't half as comfortable with this as he'd like to let on and Loki knew him. Raising his cuffed hands, he added almost shyly: “I used your colour scheme.” Although he knew that that wasn't a bad thing, he kept his gaze fixed at his wrists instead of Loki's expression.

 

The mage's hands wrapped around Tony's carefully and he felt a small tingle where they touched. Doing his best to ignore that, the engineer forced himself to smile – which wasn't actually all that difficult with Loki in front of him.

 

“They do look wonderful”, the god admitted, albeit hesitantly. “But I...”

 

“I built in a failsafe as well”, Tony cut him off. “So in case things go south, I'll be able to open them. Only in emergencies, of course.”

 

Finally, Loki smiled a  _real_ smile as he replied: “A wonderful idea. I honestly do not trust Freyja to keep our bargain, should she catch on with what is happening.”

 

“Me neither”, the inventor agreed. “So, if you'd unlock them, please?” He nodded towards the key. “The failsafe is a one-time thing, I'll have to remake the chain if I use it now. And don't give me that look, I know it works, I constructed it, I really don't have to try it out.”

 

“I trust you to know what you are doing”, Loki assured while reaching for the small key and turning it over in his hands. 

 

“Honey, I _always_ know what I'm doing”, Tony retorted smugly. The god arched an eyebrow in a way of answering and Tony elbowed him in the ribs. “Watch those non-verbal responses. I've got a badass martial arts teacher.” Loki huffed and turned the key over in the first lock, his other hand wrapped around Tony's to keep him steady.

 

The engineer's gaze dropped to their hands as he took notice of the contrast between them – his own skin, having gotten a bit of its old tan back and covered in smudges of oil and ash, and Loki's pale, soft fingers, working magic and paper scrolls rather than hammers and forges.

 

In the past almost-month, those casual touches had become normality. He was too close to Loki to deny that any longer; nights spent awake on the balcony or in the gardens when Tony did everything to not go to bed because he just knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep soundly – neither of them would talk about the reasons for it, but Loki would willingly stay awake with him.

 

When he  _did_ go to sleep and was jerked awake by a nightmare that made him scream loud enough to wake the prince as well, Loki would be at his side as fast as the distance between their rooms allowed (Tony really needed to ask how he could be heard through that wall sometime). They spent their days in the workshop, the library, the gardens or the castle, reading or working or learning languages or... well, living up to Loki's title as the Trickster. There was always something to do.

 

They exchanged stories and memories, on Tony's side tentative and careful with those from his  _old life_ , as he had come to call it, but he was learning to speak about it without breaking down or being depressed for the whole day afterwards. He was improving.  _One day_ , he promised himself,  _when this whole Freyja-mess is over, I'm going to ask Loki to let me go home._ Even if it was just for a visit. He only needed to muster up the courage to do it. 

 

He did, however, never take Loki up on the offer to sleep in the god's bed. That was a level of intimate that he wasn't ready to step up to yet, even if there  _maybe_ was a bit more than gratefulness in what he felt for Loki. He tended to avoid those thoughts as much as possible, there was nothing good coming from them. 

 

It wasn't like Tony couldn't see the way the prince looked at him, the way he acted around him. That wasn't just carefulness around a slightly crazed slave – Loki wasn't walking on eggshells around him, no. He was more friendly, more forthcoming, more caring than somebody would be with a normal friend, no matter how precious. But Loki didn't press him. If he knew that Tony had noticed, he never brought it up, he didn't pose uncomfortable questions, he didn't coerce him into anything. There was never anything beyond the comforting hugs at night and, very rarely, the soft kisses onto his forehead when he managed to stun Loki with something, be it knowledge or an idea like in the evening when he had apparently inspired Loki to... to do whatever he did to not let the coronation happen. He still hadn't learned what exactly he planned, he just hoped that it would work.

 

“Are you still with me?”, Loki asked and Tony jumped, noticing that his wrists were free and he was still holding on to Loki's hand.

 

Pulling it back, he nodded affirmatively. “Sure am.” He took the cuffs from Loki and set them down onto the table with a soft clank, the key down next to it, and decided that they should talk about something that wasn't Freyja and the nearing coronation. Tomorrow, the ceremony would take place.  _Tomorrow_ . He trusted Loki, he really did, but the thought still made him shiver and had caused more than one nightmare in the past month.  _I'm gonna be fine_ . If he kept thinking that, it would become true, right? “You said something about cutting my hair?”, he offered as a change of topic. 

 

Loki obviously noticed, Tony hadn't been exactly subtle after all, but he didn't comment on it. Instead, he smiled and nodded, glanced at the cuffs for a last time, and then replied: “Of course.” For a moment, he seemed like he wanted to add something and Tony saw his hand twitch upwards by his side, but then, the god just brushed his own black hair back before he turned around and motioned for the engineer to follow him.

 

Halfway to Loki's room, they heard Thor's voice echoing down the hallway. The mage grabbed Tony by the sleeve and pulled him into the first door that he saw, not caring about what was behind it (luckily, it seemed to be an empty storage room), and snapped it shut behind them. Muffled by the tall golden door, they could hear Thor's loud, deep talking passing them by.

 

“I cannot stand his trice-damned gloating anymore”, Loki hissed with his back against the door. “There is _nothing_ else he talks about. Never before have I seen him this arrogant, and I've known him for over a thousand years and he has never been modest. This is unbearable!” Tony sighed. He didn't meet Thor as often as Loki did, but he had, more often than not, accompanied Loki to his dinners with Thor and his friends. Neither a full mouth nor Loki's continuous eye-rolls had stopped Thor from telling the others over and over again what he was going to do once he was king. It wasn't even anything extraordinary. It was just incredibly annoying.

 

“I know what you mean”, he muttered. What he didn't say was that he would probably have more than a little fun seeing Thor... well, not becoming king. The elder prince's continuous, boisterous attitude was getting on his nerves and it would probably do him good to get a damper put upon that awfully good mood of his. Not that Tony would get any malicious glee out of that in any way, no.

 

Well, in his defence, he  _was_ pretty much living with the trickster god. There was bound to be an influence on him, wasn't there?

 

“Think they're gone now?”, he asked once the voices out in the hallway had faded. Loki hesitated, but nodded shortly after, muttering something about how he couldn't sense Thor's energy anywhere nearby as he quietly opened the door again. Indeed, the corridor was empty now, and he could hear Loki sigh in a mixture of annoyance and relief before they continued their way.

 

The prince stayed quiet, but before they reached the royal wing of the castle, three warriors found themselves stumbling because their shoelaces were, all of sudden, miraculously tied together, one fountain splashed water all over a room full of nobles and two chattering ladies burst into shrieks when the jewellery in their hair turned into very much alive frogs which hopped away with indignant croaking. Tony just smiled to himself. Loki had his very own ways of releasing frustration. And apparently, they did work, for by the time they arrived, the prince was smiling again.

 

“Shall we get to work then?”, he asked, opening the door to his room, and Tony entered with a nod. When he had first seen these rooms just over a month ago, he had been almost crazy with dread and apprehension of what was going to happen. He had _feared_ Loki, feared that he was like those before him or even worse, feared that one wrong word would destroy every pretence of friendliness that this god held upright so far. 

 

Now, there was no hesitation when he entered the chamber and moved towards the bathroom while Loki picked up a pair of scissors before following him. Tony looked around curiously – he'd never seen more of Loki's rooms than the ante-chamber with the desk, books and armchairs and the smaller room with the bed and even more scrolls and bookshelves. It was like a mini-library, really. The bathroom wasn't all that different from Tony's, just a bit larger and with more bottles and ointments. How did Loki even use all of those?

 

The inventor turned around to look at Loki, who was just closing the door behind himself, and then glanced back at the large tub. A grin spread on his face when he imagined Loki in steaming-hot water, massaging some lotion into his hair, his pale face and chest flushed with the heat as –  _no, no, Tony, wrong train of thought, that's not where this was supposed to go_ , he interrupted himself. 

 

In lack of a better option, he sat down cross-legged on the floor and listened to Loki rummaging through a drawer, watching the god's reflection in the mirror before him. After some moments, he produced an ornate, silver comb and turned towards Tony, meeting his eyes in their reflection and giving him a soft smile. The engineer returned it and watched as Loki knelt down behind him. Gently, he began to work out knots and tousled strands, carding his fingers through Tony's hair (more than was probably strictly necessary, but it wasn't like he was complaining) all the while.

 

After some minutes, Tony closed his eyes and leaned back into Loki's touch, completely submitting himself to the mage's ministrations which continued to a point where Loki wouldn't be able to find a single hair out of place even if he tried.

 

Admittedly, Tony hadn't expected to get his hair cut by Loki himself. He was grateful for it, though – he didn't really trust other people with pointy objects around him yet. It still set him on edge. Loki was, like for so many other things, the exception. He was probably pretty much the only person whom he would let wield a pair of shiny, sharp scissors near his face without panicking.

 

In a quiet voice, because he felt like everything else would break the peaceful atmosphere, he answered Loki's questions about how he wanted the haircut and closed his eyes once again when they lapsed back into silence, the only sound being the snapping of the scissors and their calm breathing. Tony kept his eyes closed during the whole process which made his other senses all the more attentive. He felt the cut hairs brushing his skin when they fell down to the ground, felt every time Loki's fingers brushed against his neck, heard every movement of the scissors and was hyper-aware of the silence when it stopped.

 

For a minute or two, he felt the prince's hands running through his hair, removing loose ones and smoothing out Tony's tousled hair, snapping another strand now and then. After a while, those little corrections ceased and he just kept up the gentle touches, not breaking the silence. It made Tony sleepy and at some point, he leaned back against Loki's chest, still not opening his eyes.

 

The prince's movements stilled for a moment and Tony tensed minutely, afraid that he would somehow object to the change in posture, but then the god just shifted a bit behind Tony's back, adjusting more comfortably, and returned to his careful ministrations. At some point, one of his hands came to rest on Tony's shoulder and both of them just enjoyed the peace and the quiet of the moment.

 

His mind told Tony disconcertingly vehement that there wouldn't be any moments like this one in quite some time.

 

But they had thought of everything, hadn't they? There was a nice, wonderful hole in Loki's and Freyja's verbal contract, Loki was there to stp in in case something went wrong, and if both of those didn't work out, his cuffs still had a failsafe. Also, Loki had trained him to defend himself. That didn't mean he would be able to stand his ground against immortals, but he'd have the element of surprise which could mean a lot. There was nothing that could go wrong.

 

“Are you alright?”, Loki asked quietly, right next to Tony's ear.

 

Tony jumped and opened his eyes. His own reflection stared back at him and he felt his breath catch in his throat when he saw it. His hair hadn't been _that_ long before, but now, it was back to its unruly, tousled curls, a look that he had pulled off for years back on Earth. It was like gazing into a mirror that allowed him to see his own past – except that there was still the scar on his cheek, thin and white, a reactor in his chest, and he was wearing Asgardian clothing and leaning back against Loki's chest in an alien bathroom.

 

“Yeah,” he answered, a little belatedly, “I'm fine.” He took a closer look at himself in the mirror, still getting used to the change. “Thank you,” he muttered quietly.

 

Loki tightened his grip on the inventor's shoulder in response and then slowly got up, leaving it to Tony to follow in his own time. With a regretful sigh, the engineer pushed himself up from the floor and tousled his hair with his hands, causing a few last stray hairs to flutter away from him. Only then he remembered that the cut hair was all over his tunic anyway and brushed his shoulders off as good as he could at the moment. Well, he'd bath later, anyway.

 

“Well then,” he said with an exhale, “two more days. You got something to do today?”

 

“There is a coronation forthcoming and you ask me whether I have something to do?”, Loki huffed. “Of course I do. But I can think of much more entertaining ways to spend my time.” He smirked mischievously. “And I am quite adept at avoiding my duties, so...” An innocent shrug was followed by a gesture towards the door. “The day is ours.”

 

*

 

Going to bed that night came with a horrible feeling of finality. Tony knew that Loki had taken care everything, that he had planned and plotted and prepared, and if something went wrong, Tony hadn't been exactly idle either, and still...

 

Still, he was turning around in bed to stare at the sky outside because sleep just wouldn't come to him. He was nervous, anxious, and no amount of reassuring thoughts would turn that off. There was nothing that sounded more wonderful than sleep right now; the afternoon had been filled with sparring, Loki making him go through everything they'd practised over and over again, and Tony hadn't been this exhausted in a long time. Nonetheless, his mind wouldn't settle down.

 

With a sigh, he slipped out from under the covers and padded over to the window on his bare feet, leaning his forehead against the glass and watching as his breath fogged the view of Asgard's golden glow below. The streets were still buzzing with activity. Apparently, he wasn't the only insomniac tonight. An incoming coronation of a god would do that to a city.

 

Tony turned around and strolled over to the desk standing at one of the walls. By now, a handful of books lined the originally empty shelf and there were some actual paper scrolls on the tabletop, so, in a lack of something better to do, the inventor lighted the two candles on the desk and started to read the scrolls, muttering (or, more precisely, stuttering) Norse syllables under his breath while he tried to grasp the meaning of what the text tried to tell him. Probably something like _you're too dumb to get this anyway, why are you even still trying?_ He couldn't concentrate, the runes were swimming over the paper and he forgot what he had just read as soon as he moved on to the next word.

 

He _needed_ sleep, he really did, but it wasn't going to come anytime soon if he couldn't calm his mind. Even the training with Loki had only partly succeeded in doing that. So how would he get his mind off things like coronations and Freyja and failing failsafes and possible risks so he could get at least _some_ rest?

 

Well. There was one offer that did probably still stand...

 

_Tony, no_ , he berated himself.  _Definitely not._ Just out of protest, he returned to the bed and curled up on his side. 

 

He didn't need help falling asleep. He wasn't scared to fall asleep because it would mean that the next day would be there faster. He wasn't scared of Freyja. He wasn't scared of the five hundred thousand things that could go wrong. He wasn't going to go over to Loki like some child scared by a nightmare. He was above things like that. Just like he wasn't scared.

 

“Fuck,” he muttered against the mattress. With something akin to defeat, he sat up, threw the blanket to the side and left his room quietly. It was almost eerily quiet and the quiet sound of his own feet on the marble floor only intensified the atmosphere of a child sneaking to his parents' bedroom after a nightmare. The thought made him feel so silly that he stood in front of Loki's door another three minutes, his feet seemingly turning to ice as he contemplated whether he was really going to go in there or just turn around and leave again.

 

Eventually, he heaved an irritated sigh. It wasn't too hard to enter a damn room, was it?

 

With probably more determination than would have been necessary, he pushed the heavy golden door open and slipped inside, surprised when he found the room alight with a soft, light green glow. Loki was laying on his back on the bed, one arm pillowed behind his head and the hand of the other one lazily moving in the air above him like a conductor's, just that there were no musicians he was directing, but a small group of glowing green figures.  _That's the Asgardian equivalent for cinema, then_ , Tony thought in the split-second that it took for the prince to notice him and the magical light-show to vanish as Loki's arm dropped onto his chest.

 

“Hey,” Tony greeted with a small half-wave and just stood in the doorframe for a moment, self-consciously fiddling with his sleeves and avoiding Loki's gaze. Staring at the sky outside, he muttered: “So, you said that... I mean, it would be possible to...” He sighed, exasperated with himself, and settled for: “I couldn't sleep.”

 

“I see,” Loki replied carefully, moving to get up. He gestured towards his desk and suggested: “We could...”

 

“No,” the inventor interrupted, shaking his head. “I don't want to stay awake tonight. I'm completely exhausted and I really just wanna go to sleep, but... maybe not...” _Not alone_. He shrugged. “I mean, if you're okay with it, I'd just...” 

 

With a small smile, but  _thankfully_ without any word, Loki lifted the blanket a little, putting an end to the engineer's stammering, and Tony nodded. With a few steps, he was at the prince's bedside and slipped under the covers, keeping about an arm's length of distance between them. There was the quiet rustle of fabric when Loki settled in, laying on his side to face Tony, but not trying to get closer or speaking up. Not pressuring. Not expecting him to do anything.

 

Tony closed his eyes and focussed on breathing regularly. Shit. Why had he thought that this would be a good idea? He was acting like a terrified little child, he was humiliating himself, this might be the most embarrassing thing he'd done since he'd come here.  _Get a grip on yourself, you're a grown-up, Tony_ , he scolded himself. He couldn't leave now, he ought to just calm down, sleep, forget about this in the morning and hope that Loki wouldn't laugh at him openly.

 

“Breathe,” the prince's voice cut through the heavy silence in the room.

 

“I am breathing,” Tony muttered, but he had to admit that he had barely noticed that he had gone completely tense, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes squeezed shut and knees pulled up halfway to his chest.

 

“I would rather call that hyperventilating,” Loki replied drily, but without malice in his tone.

 

“Don't be smart with me. You're a Viking god, you're not even supposed to know words like that,” the engineer grumbled, opening his eyes to meet the slightly amused gaze directed at him. “And I see what you did there.” Talking helped, even if he was only rambling, and Loki knew him well enough by now to remember that. Closing his eyes in defeat, he muttered: “Could you just tell me to relax and that I'll be okay and don't have to worry? Because I tried it myself, but maybe you'll be more convincing.” He'd just hope that he'd miraculously forget this before morning came.

 

“You _will_ be fine,” the mage immediately responded and Tony wanted to laugh at himself for the way he relaxed as soon as Loki's hand curled around his clenched fist. “We have covered all the eventualities, have we not? There is no need for you to worry. You will be fine, I promise.” 

 

Tony blinked up at him tentatively taking a deep breath, and nodded with a barely audible “'kay then.” That was as close to calm as he would get tonight. With his heart pounding in his chest, he turned his back towards Loki. He could practically feel the upcoming question in the air, so he quickly ordered, “Sh. No. Don't talk”, while he shuffled backwards on the mattress.

 

After a moment, Loki understood and carefully wrapped an arm around the inventor's waist. Tony willed himself not to tense up; after all, he had initiated this, he knew that Loki didn't have any bad intentions, he could get out of here at any given time. With those thoughts in mind, he squirmed until he felt the prince's chest against his back and closed his eyes again, settling in with the warmth behind him and a mixture of contentment and  _oh god, please don't let him feel my pulse right now_ .

 

Despite that, he was asleep in a matter of minutes.

 

*

 

What woke him up wasn't even a nightmare, but Loki trying to push him off his chest without waking him up. Tony blinked tiredly, confused by the fact that it was still dark and Loki wanted to get up. Why would he want to get up at such ungodly hours? With stubborn, sleepy attachment, he fisted his hands in the prince's silk pyjama and buried his nose in the crook of Loki's neck, closing his eyes with the firm resolution of continuing to sleep.

 

A quiet chuckle sent vibrations through the god's ribcage and he quietly asked: “Are you awake?” Tony made an inarticulate sound and tried to clasp his hand over Loki's mouth. Why wouldn't he just go back to sleep? Something warm was pressed to his temple – lips? – and the mage carefully pulled the inventor's hands off his pyjamas. “Sleep a little longer, dear,” he whispered and slipped out from under the covers.

 

Tony rolled over onto his other side, basking in the residual warmth for just a little longer as he pulled the blanket up to his ears, curling up around a pillow. He found that it was no suitable substitute for Loki.

 

Blinking, he slowly came to awareness.  _Wait_ . Loki's quiet footsteps moved around in the other room as Tony sat up groggily.  _Who am I, where am I, and why this early?_ Slowly, he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. He felt surprisingly well-rested, having slept through the night without interruption. Then, he remembered why he had come here in the first place. It was Coronation Day. 

 

Now that he had started thinking about that, he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again anyway. One part of him was glad that it was finally time and he could get all of this over with, but another part of him was terrified and kept trying to calculate the fastest way to the Bifröst by foot. That plan ended as soon as he was standing face-to-face with Heimdall, but whatever.

 

With a head-shake, he swung his legs off of the bed and got up, rubbing his eyes and trying to force himself into awareness. He'd need all of his composure today if he didn't want to screw things up. He shuffled towards the room where Loki kept his armours and clothing, rapped his knuckles against the doorframe and called out: “Mornin'. I'm going to my room to get changed and everything.”

 

“I shall come for you when it is time to depart,” came Loki's response from behind the door and Tony could tell by his choice of words that he was starting to adjust to the princely role he would have to be in today. No swearing, no light jokes, no casual language. Prince Loki was going to see Thor (not) become king, not the sassy, pranks-playing, warm-hearted person that Tony was used to.

 

“Right, you do that,” Tony replied, just to say something, and turned around to leave for his own chamber after a short hesitation. A glance out of the window told him that the sun was only barely peeking over the horizon. “ What the hell is up with these early risers? I mean, why would I get up this early out of my own free will, that's ludicrous,“ he grumbled to himself. “It's not like you could have a coronation in the evening, no, it's gotta be before midday so everybody has to get up early and shit. Look, my respect for our future king is so big, I don't even need sleep anymore. Jeez.”

 

He bathed, figuring that he had gotten up early enough for that, and used the hot water to help his tense muscles relax once more.  _ It's gonna be fine _ felt hollow and over-used by now, but there was nothing else he could really reassure himself with. He dressed up in Loki's colours, wearing one of the green tunics with the golden embroidery, and when the prince knocked on his door, Tony was freshly shaven, washed and as ready as he would ever be. Also, the sun was up now, which was definitely an improvement.

 

“Hey there,” he greeted, pulling the door open, “let's... wow.” Loki, standing with a small grin in front of his door, was wearing his full armour, complete with layers of black leather, gold, greens and an honest-to-god cape. He'd been wearing a similar outfit back when he had bought Tony on the market, but this was even more ceremonial, more impressive. The helmet (right, _Horny Helmet_ had been what Tony had first dubbed him – he could definitely see why) was tugged under his arm. 

 

Realizing that he had spend a probably inappropriately long time just staring Loki up and down, the engineer cleared his throat and asked: “Right. Looking impressive there, Dasher. So, we're gonna hit the workshop now?” He raised his hands to indicate that they still had to fetch the cuffs.

 

“Of course,” Loki replied with a nod. “We still have about half an hour before we need to be at the throne room.” He laid a hand onto Tony's upper arm and a second later, they appeared in the workshop.

 

“Thanks, Mr Potter,” the inventor said, “but warn me next time before apparating, will you?” Admittedly, it wasn't half as bad as the first time around; he had gotten used to the sensation because it was Loki's usual method of transportation if he was in a hurry or just didn't feel like walking. It seemed that the god had long since given up hope to understand Tony's pop culture references since he only raised an eyebrow, but didn't bother asking.

 

The engineer didn't really feel like explaining either as he stepped up to the workbench where the artfully crafted handcuffs waited for him. He picked them up, turning them over in his hands, taking a last glance at the barely visible flaw in the chain – his failsafe, his last resort – before he turned to Loki and held the cuffs out, swallowing thickly.

 

“Well then,” he said hoarsely. “Let's get on with the game.”

 

Loki nodded slowly, set the helmet down on a table and approached Tony, taking one of the inventor's hands in his and snapping the cuff shut around his first wrist, then the second one. Then, he just stared at their joined hands, Tony mimicking the action. His heart was pounding with nervousness, fear, apprehension, but also something... else.

 

He raised his head at the same time that Loki did and their eyes met. Just when Tony was about to gather the courage to say something, the god began: “Anthony, please remember that everything I say in front of Freyja serves the purpose of convincing her that you are not as important as... as you are. She...”

 

“I know, I know,” Tony interrupted, squeezing the prince's hands. “We'll be fine. I know you've got a role to play.”

 

Loki nodded with a smile. “And you...”

 

“Shht, quit talking, you're gonna make me even more nervous,” the inventor cut him off, shaking his head. “I know we can do this, I know, you...” He tried a smile and at least partly succeeded. “You promised, after all.”

 

There was something between them in that moment, something fragile and hesitant. Something that Tony was afraid would shatter if he did the wrong thing right now. Something in the way Loki looked at him, his eyes sincere and holding the promise of  _ it will be okay _ and so much more. 

 

For once, just for that moment, Tony  _ didn't  _ think twice, didn't question his own actions, didn't restrain himself with morals and profound ideas and his own protests. He stepped forward, just following what his feelings dictated, even closer into the mage's space. He didn't even try to ignore his heart fluttering up into his throat as he got onto his tiptoes and pressed his lips against Loki's in a determined kiss, born out of the intimacy of the moment that the god's comfort had created, out of the feeling that this might be the last chance in a long time to do this, out of the desperate need to have more than just Loki's hands around his.

 

For a moment, the prince tensed in surprise and Tony almost prayed,  _ don't tell me I misread everything in the past month _ , but then, Loki practically melted into the kiss with a soft sigh, leaning down and letting go of Tony's hands so he could move his own to the inventor's neck to pull him closer. It left Tony, with his wrists cuffed, to clutch at the front of the armour, but in its very own way, this was still perfect. He felt warm, safe, and at the same time he was  _ excited _ because up until now, he had vehemently tried to ban every thought related to this. Now, he just basked in the feeling it brought. It was perfect.

 

Well, it  _ was _ , until Loki suddenly shoved him away and choked out: “ _ Stop _ . Don't, Anthony.” Tony stared at him with wide eyes, panic starting to build.  _ I fucked this up, shit, I just misread everything and now I made it awkward and he... _ “You don't have to do this.” The inventor blinked, trying to catch up with Loki. The prince was staring at him, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, but an expression on his face that looked like he was about to cry.  _ But I don't kiss that badly, do I?  _ “There is no... payment I want from you, I would protect you no matter what, I do not expect you to...”

 

“ _Oh_ ,” Tony uttered when he understood what this was about. “No, I didn't... that's not what I meant, Loki, dammit. No way. I didn't do that because I thought you wouldn't protect me otherwise or something if you didn't get compensation for it.” He raised his cuffed hands in a gesture of reassurance while he was talking. “God, no. I did that because I wanted to.” He nodded as if to confirm it to himself. “I don't take you as a person who would demand that sort of payment for a favour. I really just wanted to.”

 

Loki was silent for another moment, the tension slowly bleeding out of his body, vanishing together with the mortified expression on his face. Quietly, almost disbelievingly careful, he asked: “But why would you...” His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

 

Tony would like to be able to name the exact moment that had caused him to fall for Loki. Maybe, on some sub-conscious level, it had been from the very beginning – when he had realized that Loki treated him as a person, not another piece of furniture. Maybe it had been the afternoon in Vanaheim (before the Freyja-disaster), just riding alongside the prince and exchanging knowledge and theories, working his mind again. Maybe it had been Loki's fierce determination to keep him alive even when Tony himself had given it up already, the nights in the workshop and the look in Loki's eyes when he had seen the new reactor. Maybe it had been the morning when he had brought Loki breakfast and seen the mage dishevelled from sleep, adorably unguarded. Maybe it were the hours spent in the library, on the sparring grounds, in the gardens, on the balcony, out in the fields with the horses. Maybe it had been the last night, when he had learned, albeit slowly and hesitantly, to accept Loki's offer of comfort on a new level. He couldn't tell, but it probably wasn't that important, was it?

 

“Because I wanted to,” he repeated. “It wasn't any sort of payment or assurance that you'd stick t what we said, I trust you to do that anyway. But I felt like I... well, I felt like it and I assumed that you'd like it, too, so I just...” He shrugged, staring at a table, partly uncomfortable because of the turn that the situation had taken, but also partly relieved because it felt like a huge weight had been taken from his shoulders. _Maybe this is what coming out of the closet comes like_ , he thought to himself with a wry little twist to his mouth. “Could we just... talk about this sometime that is not now?”

 

“I see,” Loki replied slowly. “Of course.” He paused. “Would you want to try again, then?”

 

Tony glanced up at him, a smile forming on his lips that only widened when he saw the expression mirrored on the prince's face. He stepped closer again and held on to the lapels of Loki's coat as he tilted his head upwards. This time, his lips were met halfway through the motion and Loki was subtly taking control, leaning forward a little more than during the first time, his hands on the engineer's waist to pull him a little bit closer, adding a tease of tongue along Tony's lips. He was leading, but not demanding, always leaving room for the inventor to protest. Which he didn't, just for the record. Not at all.

 

When they parted, both slightly out of breath, Loki was smiling softly and Tony found himself mirroring the expression.

 

“We should,” he gestured towards the door and cleared his throat, “we should probably be going, I guess. Talking – later.” Loki nodded affirmatively and reached around Tony to snatch the key from the table. The inventor watched as it vanished into Loki's handy little pocket dimension and then, the god stepped back, breathed in and out deeply and schooled his features into an impassive, regal expression.

 

“Well then,” he said, smoothing a strand of hair back and pulling the helmet on, “I suppose it is time.”

 

“Indeed,” Tony confirmed in a gravely voice, just to see Loki break character and chuckle for a second. He ran his hands through his hair, smoothed his tunic out and straightened up. Now, he was going to trick a goddess, and he better be good for that.

 

He followed Loki with a feeling of contentment and confidence that hadn't been there before, and he had to try really hard to suppress his smile. It wouldn't be very convincing if he, a slave about to be sold, would be grinning like some goofy idiot on his way there. No, not really. He had to get out of _I kissed a god_ -mood and into _I'm about to be sold out completely against my will_ -mood. It wasn't as easy as he had thought it would be.

 

They entered a small antechamber, probably something like the backstage of the throne room. A fire was casting dancing shadows onto the wall and Thor was walking up the hallway. A last time, Loki turned around and pressed a quick kiss to Tony's forehead, telling him to wait there, before he slipped out to his elder brother. Tony shuffled a little bit so he could see the two without stepping out of the shadows.

 

Loki walked up to Thor and the two came to stand next to each other, silent for a moment. After some seconds, the younger god turned and asked: “Nervous, brother?”

 

“Have you ever,” Thor laughed, “known me to be nervous?”

 

“Well,” the mage replied innocently, “there was the time in Nornheim...”

 

“That was not nervous, brother, that was the rage of battle,” Thor quickly interrupted. Tony smirked to himself, just as Loki muttered a slightly ironic “Ah, I see.” The thunderer continued: “How else have I fought my way through a hundred warriors and brought us out alive?”

 

Loki frowned and Tony briefly attempted to cross his arms before he remembered his cuffs. He settled for clenching his fists as Loki replied: “As I recall, I was the one who concealed us in smoke so we could escape.”

 

Thor laughed, agreeing heartily: “Oh, yes. Some do battle, others just do tricks.” The inventor, safely hidden behind the golden curtains, gritted his teeth. During meals with Thor and his little fellowship, he had already noticed how the elder brother kept taking credits for Loki's actions – albeit not having been present for the battles and situations that the blond's stories described, Tony had always been more open to hearing Loki's version of them.

 

The servant, who had stepped up to Thor with a goblet with some drink of sorts, chuckled at the blond god's depreciating comment and Tony almost (but not really) felt sorry for the guy when Loki's icy glare turned towards him. There was a distinct movement of the mage's wrist and Tony had to bite his lip to suppress a giggle when he saw the servant's eyes go wide as saucer plates, staring down into the goblet, until he dropped it with a yelp. Three small, poisonous-looking snakes sidled away over the marble floor.

 

Loki didn't bother with stifling his laughter, while Thor complained in an exasperated tone: “ _Loki_.” It seemed to amuse the trickster even further. “Well, that was just a waste of good wine.”

 

With wide, innocent green eyes, his younger brother responded: “Oh, just a bit of fun.” His gaze locked on the servant again. “Right, my friend?” With another flick of his wrist, the snakes disappeared, and the man poorly faked a laugh (he really looked more terrified than amused) before he bent down to pick up the tray and goblet. Loki and Thor exchanged fleeting glances and both snickered with the familiarity of persons who had known each other's antics for centuries.

 

Thor's silver helmet was handed to him and Tony saw Loki glance down on it, then up at Thor, before the younger god commented: “Oh. Nice feathers.”

 

“You don't really want to start this _again_ , do you, cow?”, Thor responded with a victorious grin.

 

“I was being sincere!”, Loki defended himself.

 

“You are incapable of sincerity,” the elder god immediately shot back. Tony winced behind the curtain.

 

“Am I?”, the mage asked, turning towards his brother.

 

“Yes,” came the reply, without a second of hesitation.

 

This time, Loki took a moment before he answered: “I have looked forward to this day as long as you have.” Tony grimaced. One point for Thor there, actually. “You are my brother and my friend – and sometimes, I am envious...” The inventor cringed. Heartfelt brotherly talk – if Thor would only get how much truth was behind Loki's words. “...but never doubt I love you.” The younger god's voice had died down to a whisper and Tony wondered if this was some sort of apology in advance for whatever he had plotted to prevent the coronation.

 

Thor was silent for a moment, an open smile spreading on his face, before he clasped his hand around his younger brother's neck and replied: “Thank you.”

 

“Now give us a kiss,” Loki demanded, breaking the atmosphere that had been building between the two.

 

“Oh, stop it,” Thor laughed and they both turned towards the exit again, grins slowly fading as they breathed in and out deeply. “Now, it is time, isn't it?”

 

“Go ahead,” the mage said, gesturing towards the entrance. When his elder brother didn't move, he urged: “Off with you, this is your big day. I will be there in a minute.”

 

Loki waited until Thor nodded, flashed another grin and was climbing the stairs; then, he turned towards Tony and gave him a small, reassuring smile. The inventor returned it and after a moment, Loki breathed in deeply and followed his brother, cape billowing behind him. _He's totally been practising that_. Tony watched him go and listened to the crowd cheering outside. He could hear some sort of dialogue between Thor and another person, presumably Odin, that abruptly stopped after a minute. It didn't feel quite right, especially since the chattering and talking in the hall had died down, and Tony cocked his head to catch every sound that came from the throne room.

 

After some seconds, he heard Odin say, “ _Frost Giants_ ” in a grave, dark voice. It was followed by some more seconds of silence before turmoil broke out in the hall.

 

Tony contemplated stepping out into the room, but there would probably be chaos right now. Loki had told him to stay here – and maybe, these 'Frost Giants' were part of the mage's plan? He had to trust him on this. If Freyja was somewhere down there in the crowd, she'd have a really hard time reaching him up here, anyway.

 

In the same second he thought that, a sugary-sweet female voice _right fucking next to his ear_ drawled: “Anthony, darling-dear, it's time to go.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was disgustingly sweet, wasn't it? I just had to put a cliffhanger in to make this less... cute.  
> And I really hope you liked this one because,,, you know...
> 
> The dialogue in the last scene was from a deleted scene from the Thor movie, by the way. You can find it on YouTube. ^^ Needless to say, neither Freyja nor Tony appeared in that one.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fail-safe is only useful if it does what it's supposed to do. This one doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, I'm really sorry for the delay, but this chapter took forever and then it just got longer and longer. Honestly, I'm not content with how it turned out, but I hope you like it!
> 
> WARNING: Please pay attention to the "Graphic Descriptions of Violence" and "Rape/Non-Con" tags I've added. There won't be anything explicit for the latter, but there are going to be some flashbacks. You've been warned.

“Anthony, darling-dear, it's time to go.”

 

Tony whirled around with a yelp and jumped a step back into the open hallway. Freyja stood on the spot that he had occupied just before, flanked by two white-clad guards, and presented a smug smile.

 

“Sweet baby Jesus, what the fuck?”, the inventor swore. “Didn't your mum teach you not to sneak up on people with weak hearts?” He aimed for anger and annoyance instead of showing the panic that was quickly taking over. What was she doing here? And where the hell had Loki disappearde to? He was supposed to be here, this wasn't going to end well... _Stalling_ , he told himself. _That's all I can do right now._ “Now, correct me if I'm wrong,” he said as calmly and nonchalantly as possible, “but I don't think that you're supposed to be here. I think you should be out there,” he gestured towards the throne room with his cuffed hands, “panicking with the rest. Backstage is just for VIPs.”

 

“Considering that Asgard has just been invaded by Frost Giants,” the goddess mused, “you do seem surprisingly unfazed.” Her pale eyes seemed to see right behind all of Tony's defences.

 

“News flash, I'm not from here. I really couldn't care less. Also, I don't even know what Frost Giants _are_ , so it's sort of difficult to be afraid of them,” the inventor responded. “But now that you're mentioning it, so do you. Not surprised? Not at all?”

 

“Oh, a bit, certainly,” Freyja answered lightly. “Honestly though, I did not expect Loki to go down without a fight.”

 

_Speak of the devil, it's about time that you show up here_ , Tony thought nervously, but tried his best to not let it show as he asked with feigned astonishment: “You think Loki did that? With the Frost-things, I mean?”

 

The goddess responded together with one of her laughs, cold and cutting as a glass shard: “Oh, you are  _golden_ . Are you trying to convince me that he did not tell you about his plans? For some reason, I can hardly believe that.”

 

“I feel like I'm repeating myself,” Tony retorted, “but I don't even know what a Frost Giant _is_ , much less how Loki would've gotten them here while he stood down there in front of half of Asgard. I'm not sure where you misunderstood that, but if you want to hit Loki where it hurts, then I'm the wrong place to start. I'm a slave, for heaven's sake, do you expect him to get upset over that?” 

 

He thought of Freyja's last visit, of the crystal glasses on the table bursting into pieces, of Loki breaking into a tirade of insults, of the prince's assurances that he had planned everything. Well, Tony  _did_ begin to doubt that last part, because he was seriously running out of things to say to stall Freyja. 

 

“Let me tell you something,” the goddess began. “Loki Odinson has never chosen a personal slave for himself before. Actually, he rejected those offered to him and insisted he could take care of himself and would not need anybody to constantly follow and keep an eye on him. He has never bought a slave before – that is, none until you came. To break a habit that is centuries old, I do believe that there must be something special about you.” 

 

Tony swallowed. There was no really decent comeback to that unless he wanted to tell Freyja about the arc reactor, which was something he was definitely not willing to do. After a beat of silence, he pointed out: “There still is a contract which you're probably breaking right now.”

 

“Darling, I planned and led an ambush against a prince of Asgard, do you honestly believe that a verbal contract would concern me?” She motioned for the two guards to step forward and Tony began to twist the shackles as sneakily as possible to activate his little fail-safe, which should cause the chain to break in about... _right now_. Except that it didn't.

 

“The- the queen of Asgard was there while you sealed that contract,” he pointed out, taking a careful step backwards. 

 

“Oh,” Freyja breathed, covering her mouth with a delicate, pale hand. “Oh dear. And now? What is she going to do about this?” 

 

The inventor began to pull at the chain more vehemently, he had crafted the things himself, there was a flaw in them, the chain was going to break, it  _had_ to break, he knew it would, if he just found the right angle... He glanced up at the two men approaching him and took a step backwards for every step that they got closer, retreating until his back was touched by the golden curtains on the other end of the hallway. They billowed up around him and confused him for long enough for the two guards to take hold of his upper arms and haul him back over to Freyja.

 

“Loki is going to _murder_ you,” Tony snarled, kicking out and struggling against the men's grasp. “If you don't put me the fuck down, I swear that you're not gonna live to regret it!” Speaking of Loki, why was he still not here yet?

 

“Of course,” the goddess answered sweetly. “Let's see about that, shall we?” She extended a hand to brush it over the inventor's cheek. In the spur of the moment, Tony jerked his head around and bit down on her thumb. _Hard_. Freyja screeched and pulled her hand out from between Tony's teeth with a sudden movement, causing bits of skin to come off. The engineer spat it out with a disgusted grimace, right at the goddess' feet, and then raised his head to glare at her. 

 

He had half-expected the slap that followed, but it still made his ears ring. Well, she did have a mean swing, he'd give her that.

 

“I am going to enjoy this,” she hissed and whipped out a piece of chalk, kneeling down to begin drawing runes onto the floor around them. 

 

Tony raised his eyebrows and bit back a snarky comment for his own good.  _Loki_ had teleported them from another  _planet_ back to Asgard without using those methods. Admittedly, that had been the most uncomfortable teleportation that Tony had ever participated in and he had nearly puked all over Asgard's fancy golden floors afterwards, but still, seeing Freyja on her knees with that pristine white dress around her, scribbling symbols, brought him a quiet feeling of satisfaction.

 

Still, if she managed to get him out of here, he was in trouble. There had to be something he could do, something to alert somebody else... well, there was always the obvious solution, wasn't there? He could just try to scream – but by now, the commotion in the throne room had died down, it was dead silent apart from the scratching of Freyja's chalk on the marble. There was nobody here who would hear him, the heavy golden walls would ensure that. Not an option, then.

 

If he could somehow free himself from his captors, he could try to run, but the likelihood of him breaking that iron grip on his arms with his hands cuffed ( _and why didn't the fucking fail-safe work)_ was disturbingly close to zero. 

 

He had  _no idea_ what to do. 

 

Swallowing nervously, he watched as Freyja finished drawing the circle and runes around them, pale on the marble floor, but apparently enough for her purposes. Briefly, Tony considered stepping on the chalk lines and erasing them, but according to what Loki had taught him, magical symbols where to be taken seriously. If he damaged them, he might be ripped apart by the magic during the teleportation – Freyja and her guards as well, but that wasn't worth it, not really.

 

He took a deep breath and decided that if he was ever going to believe in God – the Christian one, the almighty one – this was a good point to start. Right now, a miracle would come in pretty handy. Special emphasis on  _right now_ . 

 

Freyja dusted her hands off and smoothed her white skirts out as she stood up inside of the circle. She grinned at Tony with a glint in her eyes that gave him a feeling like ice creeping up his back, causing an unpleasant shudder. He covered it up with a headshake and remarked, without thinking about it: “I'm aware that I'm good-looking, but didn't you have something to do beside staring at me?”  _Don't fucking provoke her, you idiot!_ “Just saying, it's getting creepy.”

 

“We are not leaving alone,” Freyja told him calmly, although she seemed to be impatient herself. Tony watched as her gaze kept darting towards the various entrances. Well, she _was_ probably breaking a lot of laws with this – so why wasn't anyone here yet?! This place was _always_ full of people, why couldn't anyone be here right now? Murphy's fucking law, that's what it was. A palace full of guards and patrols and everything, just not when they'd be useful for once in their stupid lives.

 

“Oh, party guests? Giving someone a lift home? Waiting for the snacks?”, the engineer quipped, still twisting the chains between his hands, although there was no more determination in his struggle. His mind was elsewhere – a plan B, or, if he took all the plans Loki had been supposed to have to prevent this into consideration, possibly a plan X or Y. Or any plan at all. That would be good right now. A plan that _worked out_.

 

When Freyja didn't answer, just smiled that unnerving little smile of hers, Tony lapsed into silence, turning ideas over in his head and discarding them as quickly as they came. Freyja was waiting for something, someone, and apparently it was somebody who was important enough to stall her escape. Briefly, hope flickered up in the inventor: Maybe Loki  _didn't_ fail his plan, but he had known that she'd bring an entourage and stopped them before they could come here so she couldn't leave? 

 

Apparently, that wasn't what had happened either.  _Fuck, Loki, you were supposed to have a backup-plan! Or ten. Or enough to prevent this from going the way it is right now_ , he cursed to himself as he looked up at the tall ash-blond man who entered the antechamber with a satisfied smile on his features that looked disturbingly similar to Freyja's. 

 

“They are in the vaults, all three of them,” the man announced, brushing some errand strands out of his face with one hand. He was wearing a white suit that matched Freyja's dress and made him look eerily pale, together with his light hair colour, and his eyes had the same piercing blue colour as those of the goddess. “No-one will be here for quite a while.”

 

“Shall we, then?”, Freyja demanded impatiently and gestured towards the chalk circle. 

 

“Of course, dear,” the man said. 

 

Tony looked from him to Freyja and back, drawing his conclusions, and piped up: “So you're the brother she's sleeping with, yeah? And this whole mess,” he gestures towards the chalk circle on the floor, Freyja, the guards and the room in general, “is happening because you can neither come out nor keep it a secret properly, did I get that right?”

 

The man's gaze turned icily cold as turned to glare at Tony and responded: “I do not believe we've met.”

 

The inventor flashed him a fake smile that was all teeth. “Indeed not.”  _Indeed not?_ He was spending too much time among the Shakespearians, he was beginning to sound like them, god help him.  _Yeah, god help me. One god in particular, actually. About damn time you show up here, Lokes._ “Tony Stark, I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but it's really not. You didn't answer my question though. You're the brother Freyja is fucking?” The two visibly flinched and Tony rolled his eyes. “ _Seriously_ , guys? If you're that obvious, how is it even possible that it took Loki to point that out to the court?”

 

“Hold your tongue!”, Freyr finally hissed. Tony had been running out of things to say, anyway. “If you, too, believe in the lies that Loki has spread,” he continued, stepping forward with cold anger in his eyes, “I can understand why he would keep you. All liars need their audiences after all, don't they, Anthony?”

 

“ _Anthony_? Really?”, Tony repeated with a pointed eye-roll. “What's up with all you aliens? Is it, like, _physically impossible_ for you to call me by my name?” Subtly avoiding the topic here. _Very_ subtly.

 

“Can we gag him, please?”, Freyr demanded. The smug smile from before had vanished, now he just looked pissed off. Yeah, Tony seemed to have a talent for that sort of thing.

 

“Soon,” the godess promised. “Now, get inside the circle, I do not wish to stay here any longer. Loki created a wonderful distraction himself, but we should not try our luck.” He nodded and joined them in the circle. Now, they were all standing in a distance from about a foot apart from each other.

 

Tony looked around briefly. This might be his last chance to escape before Freyja did... whatever she did with that ridiculous chalk circle, so he reeled backwards, used the grip of the guards on his arms to push himself upwards and pulled his knees to his chest. With all the force his position allowed, he kicked Freyr, who stood opposite from him, in the chest, causing the god to stumble backwards and out of the circle. Then, he rammed his elbows into the guards' kidneys and twisted out of the surprised men's grasp and tackled Freyja out of the way before he ran towards the exit.

 

He managed about half of the way before a blow to the back of his head made him stagger, which gave one of his pursuers the chance to grab him again.

 

“Oh, for fuck's sake!”, he swore, trying to kick out, but since the man was standing behind him, actually hitting him proved to be difficult. Had he not been about a foot taller than Tony, he would've tried to bash his nose in with the back of his head, but that didn't work now, either. His face flushed with humiliation and anger, Tony was dragged back towards the circle, where the second guard took hold of his other arm again. Fucking handcuffs and fucking not-functioning fail-safe. “Can't you guys just talk like adults instead of... _this_?”

 

“It's a bit late for that now, isn't it?”, Freyja asked with an air of amusement. She gestured for the guards to stand inside the circle impatiently and walked around it once, critically eyeing the runes and symbols to see if Tony had managed to smudge anything. He really hoped that he hadn't, because dying during a failed teleportation wasn't exactly on his to-do-list for the day.

 

When she was satisfied, the goddess stepped into the chalk circle herself and began to chant quietly, raising her hands and her brows furrowed in concentration. Hadn't he been as anxious as he was, Tony would have rolled his eyes at her. Loki never needed to bother with all that fuss she was making. It didn't even _look_ impressive, the chalk didn't glow, there were no floating symbols in the air or anything, their surroundings just sort of blurred and...

 

...Tony screamed.

 

Well, he thought he did, but he couldn't be sure; he wasn't sure of anything right now. Teleporting with Loki had been unpleasant when the distances were long, but this _hurt_. It felt like he was being compressed and shoved through a tunnel that wasn't nearly big enough for someone his size, it pressed down on his head and ears, causing a shrill ring in them, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly out of fear something would happen to them otherwise.

 

He didn't notice the fog around him lifting until Freyja's voice cut through the air like a knife: “What is that _thing_?!” The inventor forced his eyes open and blinked a few times until he only saw one version of the goddess when he raised his head. He was gasping for air, now that his lungs didn't feel like they were being crushed anymore, and hung limply in the guards' grip.

 

“Wha' is wha'?”, he managed to wheeze out, trying to get his breathing under control. Absent-mindedly, he noticed that there was blood running from his nose.

 

“ _This_!”, she hissed, jabbing a finger at the reactor forcefully. Tony cringed and flinched away with a pained moan. “It is interfering with my magic!”

 

“Sorry, doll,” he responded, “should've thought of that beforehand. I wasn't exactly prepared for interplanetary travelling.”

 

She glared at him with blazing blue eyes, but he noticed that she looked shaken, too. Paler than before and slightly swaying. That clumsy teleportation seemed to have taken its toll on her.

 

“Bring him down until I decide otherwise,” she snapped at the guards and turned towards her brother as she announced: “I shall rest now.”

 

“Night, princess,” Tony called after her while he was dragged down the corridor in the opposite direction. He took some deep, steadying breaths through his mouth while he stumbled along with his guards, trying to wipe the blood from his nose off of his face, and felt his heartbeat slowing from its thunderous racing from before. Jesus, Freyja could have killed him with that inept stupid teleportation spell.

 

After not even two minutes of walking through increasingly dark and moist hallways, he was shoved into a small, square cell without windows. He swallowed – he hated narrow spaces, and this looked  _ extremely  _ uncomfortable.

 

The door was slammed behind him, he heard a key being turned and the fading sound of footsteps, and then he was alone. He swallowed, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence, and carefully reached out with his hands until he touched a wall, which he leaned on and slid to the floor, cuffed hands in front of his chest, knees pulled up so he was as small as possible. It was dark in here, completely  _ black _ . He couldn't stand the darkness. He had never had a problem with it in Asgard – sure, it got darker at night, but never to the point of an utter absence of light like in this stony little prison. There was always the golden glow from the city shining in through the window, stars and the two moons, there were torches in the hallways, and sometimes the green glow of Loki's magic when they stayed up late in the workshop. Never darkness.

 

This here? This was horrible. It was crushing, like a physical weight, and reminded him of the way that the sterile white lights on the slave ship had shut off as soon as the doors closed, leaving him in complete blackness in the ridiculously cramped room, or of the unbearably hot desert planet that he'd once been bought on, where he had been starved for days in the hot, narrow space of something that couldn't have been bigger than a closet, or of a heavy blindfold over his eyes...

 

His breaths echoed from the walls, having increased in speed as soon as the door closed and locked out every trace of light. He was alone and there was no-one coming for him here. Desperately trying not to panic, he told himself:  _ Loki is going to come for me, nothing will happen, I'm fine. I'm completely fine. I'm going to be saved, I'm... _

 

_I'm in a dark room and there are people outside who are looking forward to having their way with me while nobody is here to do anything about it, just the way it was back then, just like..._

 

He fisted his hands in his hair and pulled to distract himself from the memories about to assault him, but that definitely was the wrong thing to do it because

 

_someone is pulling his head back by his hair and he can hear their voice in his ear, asking whether he is ready to fulfil whatever task they posed for him. He can't even remember what it was anymore, but that's not the point. In response, he spits the blood that has pooled in his mouth into the person's face. The reward is a stab of pain in his abdomen, probably caused by a knee, and he doubles over, but is pulled back upwards by his hair with a force that feels like it is going to rip his scalp and_

 

that wasn't happening, he was fine, he was alone, there was no reason to panic, but then there was

 

_a scream, his scream, he realizes after some seconds. His body is convulsing with shocks and – yes, they have great technology on this planet, he remembers, but all he ever sees of it is this thing that's electrolysing him right now. His mind feels hazy, clear thoughts overshadowed by pain and fake nerve signals caused by the electricity running through his body. He's escaped, he remembers, desperately trying to hold on to that thought, he's gotten out of his owner's residence, he just needs to run now, but his body won't listen_

 

but that didn't matter, he was here, nothing would happen, and he cursed quietly: “Fuck that, I'm better than this, I'm...”

 

_alone and it's dark. Although he's curled up on the floor, he feels dizzy and nauseous. He has no idea how long he's gone without food now, that's something new – before, the food has been disgusting and not regularly given to him, but now, there's nothing at all. He has no idea that hunger could hurt so excruciatingly. To distract himself, he has started to speak to the empty room, but hearing his own voice cracked and raspy doesn't make anything any better._

 

“Oh for god's sake, this isn't happening, stop making a fuss, you coward!”, he snapped at himself, digging his fingernails into his palms. He was alone. No-one was here. Nothing was going to happen as long as the door didn't open –

 

_but he needs the door to open because he can't get out otherwise, he's trapped inside here with this_ thing _that he refuses to call a person, it can't even speak – at least not in a way that he understands. What he does understand, is that the thing has something knife-like and is in no good mood. He raises his hand to the cut that runs from his cheekbone to his upper lip and is sure to scar, but right now, he has bigger problems._

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the images flooding his head, but it just made it worse. The darkness in the room didn't just take away any chance of distraction, it also triggered more memories and it was getting hard to tell himself that they were just illusions.

 

_Blindfolded. He's blindfolded and he can't see anything, but he till knows where his captor is because he can hear how the thin, wooden cane is slapped into his owner's palm repeatedly. Tony's arms are chained up over his head, spread widely, and he's barely standing on his tiptoes. He clenches his fists and jaw, he won't give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing him scared. No way._

 

_ The first blow hits between his shoulder blades and Tony hisses through gritted teeth. He manages to stay quiet for the second and third hit although they hurt like fuck, but the fourth strikes across the small of his back and he cries out in pain and surprise. His knees give in, putting his weight onto his arms and therefore the sprained shoulder he has gotten himself the day before, causing a pained moan. It prompts a satisfied chuckle from his captor, followed by three quick hits to the same spot. Tony used to think that he could get used to the pain, but it only multiplies with each hit. _

 

“ _Ready to relent yet?”, he hears from somewhere in front of him and heaves for air, although he feels a stab of pain every time his ribcage expands – from the lashes on his back that seem to be ripped open again with every single breath he takes, and from the reactor casing that is still alien to his body._

 

_When he's sure that he can speak again, he replies distinctly: “Fuck you.”_

 

_The next blow strikes him across the face, splitting his lip and leaving an angry, burning streak across his cheek. Gasping for air, he lets his head fall back and is suddenly grateful for the blindfold hiding the tears of pain welling up in his eyes. His ears are ringing and he can feel his pulse throbbing in every single one of his injuries._

 

_After a while, he doesn't even try to suppress his cries anymore, he just wants it all to stop. He can't speak up though – he can't admit defeat, he can't let himself be beaten, he can't admit defeat._

 

_Time passes, an amount of it that he can't pinpoint, but suddenly, the hits stop. He needs some moments to realize it because his whole back, his chest, his face – everything feels like it's on fire. Through the hammering of his pulse in his ears, he hears his captor's bored voice: “Clean him up.”_

 

_ There's the sloshing sound of water and Tony smells salt, his mind not yet comprehending what that means before the bucket is splashed onto his back and he  _ screams _ , even as he finally,  _ finally _ passes out. _

 

He was hyperventilating. If he was lucky, he'd choke before Freyja got here. Vehemently shaking his head, he tried to ban those thoughts, thinking of the library, of the workshop, of Loki – kissing Loki, yes, that was good – but in the darkness, his mind kept assaulting him with memories, memories of

 

_saltwater, he can still feel the saltwater burning in his wounds when he wakes up. He can't have been out for very long, then, and_

 

and oh God, he knew where this memory was going, he couldn't live through this again. He tried to press his hands onto his ears like that would help, but the cuffs prevented it and so he just shook his head rapidly and tried to remember something, anything that wasn't

 

_a hand trailing down his back, making him wince every time it brushes over one of the bloody lashes or presses onto the swollen skin in-between them_

 

He shook his head again, pulled at his cuffs,  _ what the fuck is wrong with this fucking fail-safe,  _ he wasn't going back there. He wasn't. This had been his last owner before Loki came around, and after  _ this _ incident, he had played the obedient slave for almost two days before politely asking for a razor blade to shave himself. The wish had been granted, he had been so  _ good _ after all, and he had smiled and bowed before he attempted to slit his captor's throat with the knife. The memory was disgustingly satisfying, but it still didn't stop him from hearing his own whimpers of

 

“ _oh God no, stop it, please, I can't...” Suddenly, there is a body flush against his back and hands splayed out over his chest. Tony doesn't even have the strength to cry out anymore, his only reaction to the pressure is a pained moan that turns into a high-pitched whimper as his owner rakes his nails, no,_ claws _ , down the inventor's chest and re-opens the wounds that the cane has ripped before. _

 

_The sensation of an almost painfully rough tongue lapping along a gash on his shoulder alarms him and he shakes his head weakly, trying to squirm away from the touch, as his owner's claws wander lower and realization dawns on him when he feels the hands sliding across his abdomen and lower and... “Oh god,” he chokes out past the dry lump in his throat, “no, please don't, stop it, I-” A hand is clamped over his mouth and_

 

Tony yanked the collar of his tunic down, partly revealing the reactor, _why hadn't he thought of that sooner,_ so its bright blue light illuminated the cell. He nearly sobbed in relief and blinked for a moment to adjust to the new-found light. It didn't do much to actually chase the darkness away, but it was enough to keep the memories at bay because he could focus on other things now. Like, uh, counting the cracks in the walls. Well, anything was better than thinking about _that._ It wasn't like the light suddenly made his panic disappear, but it gave him something else to think about.

 

By the time the door to the cell opened, the engineer's breathing had an almost normal speed again. It took him a moment to understand that it wasn't Loki stepping in and he hastily pulled the tunic back into place, but even that couldn't keep him from feeling relieved. As long as he didn't have to endure his memories any longer, he'd take on anyone.

 

Breathing in deeply as if the light from outside had brought fresh air with it (which, just for the record, it clearly hadn't), he tensed and waited for the two men who had entered to step up to him. Finally, he had something to focus his panicked adrenaline on. In a last, half-hearted attempt to get the fail-safe mechanism to work, he twisted one of his hands in one direction, the other one to the other, further and further until the chain got caught between them and – 

 

– snapped.

 

Tony blinked and stared down at his hands, saw the ends of the broken chain dangle between his hands, and before he could think, he exclaimed: “Well, fucking finally!” Then, he looked up at the two brutes coming his way. Chances were good that they hadn't noticed his little advantage, so he quickly continued: “It was about time you got here, I thought she'd forgotten about me. That'd be rude, wouldn't it?” He just hoped that they were stupid enough to miss the fact that he hadn't been talking to them at first. Since there was no sign of alarm from either of them, he supposed that they really were. 

 

When one of them crouched down, Tony pulled his leg to his chest and delivered a forceful kick right into the guy's nuts. Loki had taught him to fight to win, not to fight fair. The soldier collapsed with a keening sound and the inventor rolled to the side to dodge the other one pouncing on him. With a well-practised movement (thanks, Loki), he got to his feet and raised his arms in front of himself. He was still shaking and was surprised he had managed to knock out even one of the two, but it was all worth being pulled out of his panic. This was  _ nothing _ against it.

 

He surged forward, aiming a punch at the soldier, but the man caught his fist. Thrown off balance, Tony tried to headbutt him to break his nose. He barely saw his opponent raise his armoured hand in front of his face, but when he did, his forehead had already slammed into the metal glove.

 

Groaning, he tumbled backwards and was caught by a hand closing around the back of his neck. His vision was blurred and he felt something warm trickle down over his eyebrow. Still, he tried to kick out and felt his foot hit something, followed by a pained grunt. Never let anyone say that he went down without a fight.

 

It wasn't of much use, though, as he was dragged forward roughly in a way that made his already painfully throbbing head spin. He blinked and tried to wipe the blood from his face with the back of his hand, but ended up smearing it even more as he stumbled along in the guard's grip. The guy didn't even turn around to have a look at his companion on the ground. _Great work climate they have here_ , Tony thought sarcastically.

  
When the adrenaline numbed the pain in his forehead at least partly, he made another attempt at defying his guard, ducking down to kick the man's legs out from under him, but it was condemned by the sheer weight of his opponent. As a mortal, you apparently weren't very well off without the element of surprise. The only reaction Tony got was an unwilling grunt and a hard tug on his neck.

 

“Talkative much, are we?”, he muttered sourly and stumbled along. Maybe he should have waited with showing his cards until they reached Freyja, he'd have gotten a chance to break her neck then. But it wasn't like he had expected the fail-safe to... well, fail like that. If it had worked, he would possibly not have ended up here in the first place.

 

_Hurry up, Loki, get me out of here..._

 

They ascended some stairs and found themselves in a tidier, cleaner level of the building (castle? Palace?), the walls made of white marble and barely showing any other colours. Well, apparently, white was in Vanaheim what gold was in Asgard. It was just as annoying after only two minutes, causing the engineer headaches with its brightness.

 

He tried to breathe in and out deeply to calm himself. If he was going to face the twincest-couple, he'd at least deny them the satisfaction of seeing him terrified. Bloodied and in (broken) handcuffs was more than enough for that greedy pair of creepy siblings.

 

Despite that, he couldn't help but feel his nerves flutter as he was pushed into one of the rooms without any sort of preamble. The guard stayed outside, slamming the door shut behind Tony, which left the inventor to take in his surroundings. Like most of the place, the walls were made of cold, white stone, but the large room was decorated with a table, some armchairs, bookshelves out of light brown wood, and big windows with white curtains. Had this been another situation, he would probably have found the place sort of cosy, even though the colour scheme was a bit plain.

 

Freyja was comfortably seated in one of the armchairs and looked Tony up and down unashamedly, stopping at the wound on his forehead and the broken shackles.

 

“Why am I even surprised?”, she asked with an air of exasperation when she saw the cuffs, gesturing towards the chair opposite her. “Go on, take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. We have time.”

 

Tony hesitated. Her calmness was unnerving, she looked far too confident for someone who had just challenged Loki, no less. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he responded: “Thanks, but I'm fine standing.” _Because that puts a lot more distance between us._ “So, where's your better half? Oh, don't look at me like that, don't be jealous. I'm not into guys. I won't –“

 

“Desist your comments,” she hissed, interrupting him, “or I shall cut your tongue out and feed it to you.”

 

“Whoa there,” the inventor soothed with his hands in the air as he took a small step backwards, “I like that where it is, thanks.” He bit his lip to prevent himself from uttering any of the remarks that bubbled up in his throat. This was the worst moment to anger her, really, so he tried to distract her from the topic. “And what do we do now?”

 

“We wait,” she answered, once again pointing towards the chair. “Because we both know that Loki is going to turn up here sooner or later.”

 

“And you can't just ask him for a date, you need to kidnap someone,” Tony muttered drily while he carefully made his way towards the chair. “Why can't you just meet up normally? Why do _I_ have to get involved in this?”

 

“Because Loki would never come here without an escort if it were not for someone he loves, and kidnapping Thor would have been much more complicated,” Freyja responded without hesitation.

 

The inventor froze in his steps for a second and then quickly shook his head and cleared his throat. “First of all, don't you go throwing that L-word around. Loki doesn't love me, I... I don't love Loki, and you're making assumptions here.” He carefully sat down in the chair opposite the goddess. “Secondly, why wouldn't he come with an escort? As far as I know, this here counts as theft or something.” Referring to himself as something that could be _stolen_ like a pretty little bracelet made him cringe internally, but she didn't have to know that.

 

She didn't even deign his first statement with an answer as she answered: “Of course he shan't bring anyone. Loki may be a liar, but he is not stupid. He knows he would not take you out with him alive if he did.”

 

Tony flinched and grimaced at the casualness with which she spoke, but then again, she'd said that Loki _would_ take him out of here alive if he didn't march up with an army or something. That meant there was still hope, right? As calmly as he could, he replied: “Glad we got that sorted out. Very reassuring, really. So I'm just the bait to get Loki here again? It _is_ getting old, you know. I heard that you shouldn't use the same trick twice, he could be prepared this time.”

 

“And what, pray tell me, would he do if he was prepared?”, the goddess asked sweetly.

 

“Well, I wouldn't know, would I? I'm not Loki, after all. But I think you know him longer than I do, he'll have a plan. And that, honey, means that you're in trouble.” He smirked, more confidently than he actually was, and leaned back. “There might still be time to stop this, you know? If he's still in the vault like your brother said and you just return me _now_ , Loki might not even notice I was gone.”

 

Freyja answered with a very un-lady-like snort and shook her head. “Yes, you surely just fell down some stairs and hit your head, didn't you,” she deadpanned. “Are you trying to threaten me?” Without waiting for a response, she stood up and advanced towards the inventor. He absently noted that she had changed into a simpler dress that allowed her more room to move, like she expected to need that later.

 

“Me? Threatening? Never,” he replied nervously and scrambled off the armchair to stand behind it, putting it between himself and the goddess. “What are you doing?”

 

“Well, we will need something for Loki to see when he arrives, don't we?”, she asked sweetly.

 

Tony paled and shook his head, instantly assuming a defensive stance behind the armchair. Hastily, he responded: “Oh, I think we're just fine. I'm already practically covered in blood, I think that'll suffice for your little show, won't it?” As if to underline his point, he ran his tongue over his upper lip that still tasted salty and metallic from the now dried blood that had flown from his nose before.

 

“I remember now why I wanted to gag you,” the goddess murmured and pulled a stripe of leather out of the pockets of her dress. Tony bit back a curse. This wouldn't have happened back on Earth – dresses didn't have pockets there, and the amount of crazy revenge-seeking goddesses was much smaller.

 

“Oh, don't go there,” he warned, stepping around the armchair when she was about to reach him. “Seriously.”

 

“Will you stop moving!”, she hissed, rounding the armchair faster.

 

“Are you honestly asking me to just stand here and let you have your way?”, the engineer mocked.

 

“I am not _asking_ , I am _ordering_!”, Freyja snapped.

 

“Seems to be working well for you. I can do this all day, just so you know.”

 

“For Norn's sake,” she muttered under her breath, and suddenly, the ground disappeared under Tony's feet as he was lifted into the air.

 

“Whoa there, Lord Vader,” he uttered breathlessly, flailing uselessly to find something to hold on to, and added for good measure: “Levitation is for beginners!”

 

“What do _you_ know about magic,” the goddess snapped, terminating the spell while Tony was two feet over the ground. He, not having expected gravity to claim him again so suddenly, stumbled when his feet met the ground. It gave Freyja the opportunity she had needed; she stopped him with a hand on his chest, _directly on the arc reactor_ , and when he gasped for breath and attempted to say something, she shoved the leather strip into his mouth and had it tied behind his head before his scrambling hands could get it out again. Then, she captured both his wrists and scrutinized them while Tony, trapped against the back of the armchair, glared up at her. She was _taller_ than him, that just wasn't _fair_.

 

“We will have to do something about this, won't we,” she mused.

 

“Umpfh uh uck'n nut!”, the inventor snapped, which was as close as he got to _'Could you fucking not'_ with his mouth full of leather gag.

 

“And you are still not shutting up. It truly is incredible,” she sighed. Tony cursed and insulted her through the gag while he tried to pull his hands out of her vice-like grip, but of course this _woman_ had superhuman strength and shit which made it impossible for him to do literally anything. Plus, she had taken the ability to speak from him, _again_ , which meant an entirely new level of helplessness. He couldn't even mock or threaten her now. He was muted, she had taken his only weapon from him.

 

With nothing more than a glare (and this was the first time Tony really _hated_ magic), she conjured a pair of handcuffs that closed next to the remnants of his old ones. With that disgustingly sweet smile of hers, Freyja said: “I assure you, these shan't break.”

 

Tony huffed and glared at her, his eyes possibly a little too wide for normal standards, his pulse just a few beats too fast, his breathing just a little too erratic to not sound panicked. But this, he told himself, this couldn't be worse than what had already been done to him. Whatever Freyja did, it wouldn't be enough to harm him past the physical wounds. He was used to pain, it would take more to actually hurt him. She needed him alive, and that was all that counted; from everything else, he'd recover.

 

With newly found stubbornness, he met her unsettling blue eyes. _She couldn't do anything to him._ She must have noticed that something had changed in the brief seconds of silence, because her gaze darkened and the next thing she conjured from her little pocket dimension was a small, but dangerous-looking dagger. Tony did flinch when he saw it, but he clenched his jaw, biting down onto the leather stripe that served as gag, and stared at some point behind Freyja's shoulder.

 

“Am I not interesting enough for you?”, she hissed, seizing the front of his tunic and pulling him closer. He hadn't even used the 'ignoring'-tactic for one minute and it was already working. Wonderful. “Fine then, let us see whether I can capture your attention.”

 

She pushed Tony down into the armchair and he kept staring out of the window he'd found, pretending not to notice how she raised the dagger although his every sense was focussed on the knife. The mask of indifference worked until he felt and heard how she began to slit his tunic in half.

 

With a jolt that was more instinct than conscious decision, he pushed the knife away from himself and covered the reactor with both arms, barely noticing that his sudden reaction had caused him to cut his forearm on the blade. His eyes were wild, anxious – nobody had bothered with the reactor so far, nobody but Loki. And Loki was allowed to. She wasn't _._

 

He glared at her as if that would somehow stop her. _Well, that indifference thing sure worked for a long time._ The reactor was a no-go.

 

Pressing both hands over his chest, he squirmed away until he was flush against the backrest of the seat. Freyja's grin widened and she said something, presumably mocking, that he didn't even bother listening to. Instead, he tried to shove her away with a foot against her stomach, but she caught him by the boot and twisted his ankle harshly until Tony cried out behind the gag.

 

Then, she carelessly dropped his leg and moved to stand between the engineer's knees so she could tug his hands away from his chest and over his head. Tony struggled every inch of the way, but because of gods and their stupid fucking superhuman strength, all he could do was to yell muffled insults into the leather stripe between his teeth.

 

Freyja slit the tunic open with enough carelessness to break the engineer's skin underneath in a long, thin cut from his chest to his waist. The fabric fell open and she dropped the dagger on the floor beside her as she crouched down to examine the reactor.

 

Glancing up into Tony's panicked eyes, she asked: “What happens if I take this out?” He shook his head vehemently, trying to pull his hands away from her grip and press himself further back into the cushions at the same time. _Don't you dare, don't you fucking dare!_ “Did Loki give you this?” He shook his head again, trying to twist away from the hand reaching towards the arc reactor. “But it does feel like him,” she remarked, “and it did not when I had you the first time.” _How the fuck am I even supposed to answer with this thing in my mouth?_

 

Freyja closed her hand over the reactor and gave it an experimental pull. Tony cried out as it shot a stab of pain through his chest and arched his back so she'd stop tugging at the reactor. Thankfully, she seemed to get the hint and let go. The inventor slumped back into the seat with a shuddering exhale and shook his head warningly when she tried again – this time, she had the right idea and twisted the reactor in its casing.

 

Slowly, she pulled it out. Tony felt all blood draining from his face and he tried to tell her to _put it back in right fucking now_ and to _not rip that cable, do not lay a finger on that cable_ , but holding him down seemed to be all too easy because she didn't even pay attention while she examined the cable that ran into the cavity of his chest.

 

The inventor had ceased every movement and watched her with wide eyes, nearly paralysed with fear. The reactor was just the power source for the magnet, so as long as the cable was still connected, the shrapnel wouldn't move, but who knew what this insane wench was going to do if Loki didn't turn up here soon.

 

Freyja turned the reactor over in her hand, examining the foreign technology. Its blue glow reflected in her eyes, giving them an eerily intense colour that made the almost predatory look on her face all the more dangerous. When she glanced up to meet Tony's eyes, he just shook his head very slowly, as if that would do anything to stop her.

 

“Why does it feel like Loki?”, she demanded quietly and the engineer shrugged helplessly, _what does she even mean, 'it feels like Loki', for Christ's sake, I don't know the first thing about magic!_ “Are you sure that you don't know?”, the goddess asked and tightened her grip around the reactor. Tony nodded frantically and made a little choking sound behind the gag, _I can't answer you, goddammit_ , his eyes fixed on the arc reactor in Freyja's pale fingers.

 

She couldn't kill him, right? She still needed him. _But she has no idea that the reactor keeps me alive, right? Maybe she thinks it's some way of communication to Loki or something, and I can't tell her otherwise as long as I can't speak!_ He tried to communicate the _don't fucking touch this_ with a glare and and a head-shake, but her unnerving grin only widened. Tony's eyes darted around the room, searching for a way to escape or something like that, but as long as she had the reactor, his heart, literally in her palm, trying to bold was the stupidest thing he could do.

 

“You won't tell me what it is, then,” she stated and Tony shook his head and rolled his eyes. _I'm still gagged, nitwit._ “Not even if I remove that?”, Freyja continued with a nod towards the gag.

 

The inventor hesitated. Having the gag out was promising, but not enough to risk giving her information. The arc reactor was a sore topic. Then again, maybe he could distract her with explanations about the reactor for a while. But Loki had said that it had magical qualities, that it reminded him of an old, mighty artefact that all kinds off immortals were trying to reproduce, and Tony really didn't want to accidentally give Freyja the key to a possible weapon like that. Determinedly, he shook his head.

 

The goddess raised her eyebrows as if she waited for him to change his mind. When he held her gaze with as much conviction as he could muster, she nodded slowly and said: “As you wish.”

 

Then, without breaking eye-contact with Tony, she crushed the arc reactor in her hand.

 

For a moment, after the sound of splintering glass and bending metal had subsided, the room was completely silent. Tony stared at Freyja, then slowly down at her fist that uncurled around the remnants of the device. Small parts, glass shards and tiny scraps of metal, clinked softly when they hit the marble floor, and he heard the goddess' voice as she stared at the small cuts in her palm, indifferently stating: “Oh dear, what a mess.”

 

Tony felt his breath speeding up without consent as he watched the cable that ran into his chest fall down limply so the broken rest of the reactor that still was attached to it fell to rest against his stomach and caused an unpleasant pull in his chest, not to speak of the panic that was making his heart race with an abnormal speed.

 

_Broken. She had broken the reactor. She had broken the power source for the magnet, the shrapnel was going to start moving, he was going into cardiac arrest –_

 

Immediately, Tony told himself to think rationally. He had about half an hour before the shards would actually move, and he had to stay _calm_ (that sounded so easy when you were in third perspective) or everything would go downhill much faster. He was okay, he was... _not fucking okay, how would he be, she had crushed his heart in her palm, he was_... _not_ going to die, not if he stayed calm, he could handle this, he just needed to breathe, slowly...

 

He tried to recall Loki's voice in his ear. _Breathe. Easy, Anthony. You can do it, for me. In and out. Just like that. Breathe, slowly. With me._ The engineer took some deep, carefully measured breaths. He was still trembling in Freyja's grip and had squeezed his eyes shut to avoid having to look at her, every breath came out as a whimpering wheeze, but he wasn't hyperventilating and that was the most important thing right now.

 

Slowly, he opened his eyes again to glare at Freyja defiantly. She was watching him with something akin to curiosity, a morbid, cold version of it, a small smile etched into her features. He could _smell_ her because she was still crouched over him, pressing his cuffed wrists to the backrest behind his head with one of her hands and looming over him, terrifyingly close.

 

Tony wondered if he could spontaneously learn telepathy just to transmit a loud, clear _fuck off_ to her. Judging by her lack of reaction, it didn't work.

 

“You do not seem dead to me,” she pointed out. _Yeah, not yet._ “So what exactly is- pardon, _was_ this? Did–“

 

She didn't finish the sentence because finally, _finally_ the door was wrenched open. Tony only heard it because Freyja was standing in his line of sight, but the way she whirled around and let go of him told him everything he needed to know.

 

“How did you get in here?”, she snarled. _About fucking time, you bastard._

 

“ _Somebody_ left their chalk circle on the floor,” Loki sneered, followed by a muttered, “amateurs”. There were the quiet footsteps, accentuated by the clicking of leather boots, that Tony had come to identify as Loki's, and the prince continued: “Now, if I am not misunderstood, you broke a –“ He stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of Tony, gagged, face bloodied, arc reactor shattered, and the inventor saw Loki's eyes widen as he sucked in a deep breath before shock turned into anger. “How _dare_ you,” he hissed, advancing towards Tony, but Freyja was faster: She seized the engineer by his hair and forced him to stand up from the armchair.

 

Tony winced and hissed as he thoughtlessly put his weight onto the ankle she had twisted before, hopped awkwardly for a moment until she forced him backwards against her chest. He felt a cold blade pressed against his throat (it was _really_ getting old now, déjà-vu didn't even cover that anymore) and the goddess behind him announced: “I want you to...”

 

“I _know_ what you want, Freyja,” Loki cut her off, and Tony could see sparks of green light dancing around his fingertips. He was _pissed_. “But I give you a promise, and you can expect me to keep this one: Should he not stand next to me in the next thirty seconds, you are not going to leave this room other than in a coffin.”

 

There was a hint of uncertainty in the goddess' voice as she responded: “I am a member of the Council, you cannot...”

 

“You know that I can,” Loki interrupted, eyes blazing and fists clenched. “Stop speaking, I refuse to engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed person. _Hand. Him. Over._ ”

 

Before Freyja could reply, the door closed behind Loki and Freyr greeted the three of them with a thin smile: “I seem to have missed something. When did we grant him access to the palace?”

 

“When you morons failed to clean up behind you,” Loki snarled without even turning to acknowledge the other man. “Now, quit playing games, or there will be two Vanir funerals tonight.”

 

Tony had never heard the prince uttering such blatant, unconcealed threats. They were always subtle, careful, only visible when you squinted. Twice. This here was new. This was something he had never seen on the god before and it scared him. He didn't seem to be the only one.

 

“You wouldn't dare...”, Freyja began for a second time.

 

“I would and you know it!”, Loki yelled. Tony felt the goddess behind him wince.

 

Freyr decided to chime in then, his tone low and warning, but surprisingly enough, directed at his sister: “Leave it, sister mine.” He stepped around Loki, putting a respectful distance between them, and approached the goddess and Tony.

 

“What are you doing?”, Freyja hissed.

 

“Can't you see he is not in the mood for your games!”, the blond god snapped, coming to a halt in front of his sister. Tony felt like he was trapped between a year-long argument between the siblings. “He shall get his beloved slave back if he longs for him so much.”

 

Tony huffed. All of this for Freyr to call all of it off again? Not that he'd complain, as long as he got a functioning reactor back into his chest, he'd accept every possible outcome of this scenario. It was certainly better than listening to these three arguing any longer.

 

With Freyja standing behind him and Freyr blocking Loki's view, Tony was the only one who saw how the Vanir produced a thin, silvery dagger out of one of his wide sleeves, and he didn't even manage to scream before Freyr had thrust it into his stomach.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I won't even comment on the cliffhanger anymore. ;)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an argument, and a scheme, and everything would be easier if Tony had just stayed asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to give special thanks for this chapter for a very good friend who shared her own near-death-experience with me and answered my questions.
> 
> This chapter might seem a bit incoherent, but since Tony is only half-conscious most of the time, I think it fits.

Freyr didn't stab him _once_ or even _twice_. No, by the time Loki yanked the other god backwards by his hair, with enough force to send him tumbling backwards and crashing down onto a low table, the dagger had left three gaping wounds in the inventor's stomach and abdomen. Tony felt Freyja's grip on him relent and collapsed forwards, his eyes squeezed shut as if that would somehow ease the pain. Loki's voice was in his ear, he was catching him, holding him up and pressing him against his chest.

 

“I swear to the Norns,” the prince hissed, “if he dies, both of you will, and I will make sure that they find you in bed together!” Tony leaned against the god, clawing at his leather armour and biting down on the gag in his mouth in order to avoid biting his tongue. Loki was lowering him to the ground slowly, talking to him now, constantly, soothingly talking, no more death threats for Freyja, and Tony tried to focus on his voice rather than the wounds and the blood that was covering his fingers where he tried to stop it from flowing out.

 

Whichever moron had said that the shock would numb the pain, he'd been a fucking liar.

 

But there was something else that worked as numbing, something warm and black on the edge of his mind, inviting with the promise of soothing nothingness, release from –

 

A hard slap to his face jerked him out of the haze he had been about to fall into and he gasped for air, his eyes wide open again.

 

“...hear me?” Loki's voice cut through his comfortable silence and Tony whimpered, shaking his head unwillingly. The gag was pulled out between his teeth and the prince took hold of his jaw fiercely, forcing Tony to look at him. “Do not close your eyes, focus on me,” he insisted, and even through the pain clouding his mind, the inventor could hear the tremor in Loki's voice, “I need you to stay awake. Please, can you do that for me?”

 

Tony shook his head weakly, _just let me close my eyes, just for a few minutes, I don't want to have to feel that,_ but Loki didn't relent, didn't just leave him in peace, he crouched down further and repeated: “I _need_ you. To stay. Awake. Do not close your eyes, do not _dare_ to close your eyes, stay awake for me. Focus on me, come on, _please_.” _I_ can't _, can't you see that, just leave it, for god's sake, just let me sleep for five damn minutes..._ “I will teleport us now, and you have to stay conscious. Stay with me.”

 

The inventor breathed in, wincing and clenching his jaw, and tried to force syllables past his bloodied lips: “Fre...?”

 

“Gone,” Loki immediately replied. “Both of them. They're not important now. I swear, you will never have to see them again, love.”

 

The world around them dissolved slowly and Tony felt his stomach churn, _more pain_ , and he would have cried out if he had the power left, but like this, he just cringed and whimpered because _god, how could it hurt so much_ , he felt the remnants of the tunic sticking to him, wet and heavy with _far too much blood,_ and when Asgard's golden light reached him, the blackness on the edge of his vision won against his consciousness despite Loki's fading words in his ear.

 

They were in his dreams, though, snippets of sentences, orders, pleas, blurring into one another and fading in and out again while Tony teetered on the edge of waking.

 

_...n't you dare, I will not let you..._

 

The pain was still there, but it had become a dull ache, not the all-consuming agony from before.

 

_...Eir here this instant, didn't you hear me, there is no time for your ridiculous..._

 

Not just Loki's voice. Others, too. A woman?

 

_...needs it, I need to fetch it, it shan't take more than fifteen seconds to – just go, Loki, go – but you need to take care of him, he – I know what I am doing, will you get it now or won't you?_

 

It still hurt. It hurt more now, and with a small shock, Tony realized that he was waking up. He didn't want to wake up, this was so good, he didn't want to have to feel...

 

... _just like that, yes, it will do now, we will craft a new one later, but he needs this_

 

An electric jolt pulsed through his body, _oh god he could feel his body again, he didn't want to feel his body, it hurt_ , making the comfortable nothingness fade further and further.

 

… _so sorry, the, the cable, it touched – don't speak, finish it, for Norns' sake, Loki_

 

What were they doing? Cables, oh Lord, cables, someone was meddling with the reactor. The reactor. Right. It was broken, he had been stabbed, he was dying – but he didn't _want_ to die, no, that wasn't right. Tony fought for consciousness now rather than against it. He was resurfacing slowly.

 

_...and if you do not obey now, I shall have you flayed alive by tomorrow!_

 

“Flay?”, Tony croaked, blinking against the light around him.

 

“He's awake,” he heard Loki say, well duh, of course he was, why wouldn't he- right. The pain reared its ugly head and Tony pressed his eyes shut with a strained groan. Hell, no, why had he woken up? He didn't want to be awake to feel this. “Anthony, can you look at me?”

 

“God no,” he whimpered, shaking his head, “just lemme sleep again, _please_ , I don't...”

 

A hand was cupping the back of his neck and pulling him upwards. “No, stay awake. You need to be awake, love, just for some more minutes. You can rest afterwards, as long as you wish, I promise. Just a little while longer.”

 

Tony gritted his teeth and blinked, trying to ignore the tears of pain blurring his vision. He had no idea where he was, but it all looked pretty Asgardian. There was a bed underneath him, neither his nor Loki's, though the prince was kneeling on the mattress beside him and had him hoisted up into a half-sitting position in his lap.

 

There was a woman with dark curls crouching over him, reaching out for him. The inventor flinched and pressed himself closer to Loki, hiding his face in the black leather of his armour, trying to evade the woman's touch, _he couldn't let himself get hurt again_ , and felt the prince's hand brushing through his hair soothingly.

 

“You will be fine, love,” Loki whispered, “I promise. But you have to stay awake for a little bit longer.” Tony nodded against him and tried take proper breaths instead of the hitching gasps and sobs that the pain reduced him to. _Just a little bit longer._ He tried to focus on Loki's voice, but it was fading and getting quieter and quieter. _Probably because of the blood loss_ , a cool, analytic part of his mind supplied. _You don't know how long you've been out, but you've been stabbed three times, and the dagger went straight through you. There's bound to be a strong bleeding. You're lucky that you're even still alive. Most likely, that's partly Loki's doing._

 

Interesting. He hadn't known that dying made you feel so calm. He wasn't even panicking anymore, just listening to this diagnosis of his own mind. No pain left. He was floating again.

 

_What happened to staying awake for Loki?_

 

_Shit!_

 

Tony fought to wake up again, _he'd promised_ , and he knew that there had to be some way to wake up because he wasn't dead yet, was he? There had to be a way to get out of this – although this was so much easier than bearing the pain of waking, feeling his wounds again, hearing his own heart stutter without the reactor... He didn't _have_ to wake up again, did he? This was easy, this was so much easier.

 

_You promised._

 

He could be free here. Going back would be difficult. He would have to deal with... with everything again. With being a slave, with not going home, with...

 

_...being with Loki? That's not such a bad thing, is it?_

 

But there would be problems. There were always problems. Not here, though. He was fine here, as banal as that sounded, but he was. A weight was lifted from him, a weight that he hadn't realized he'd been carrying around with him this whole time.

 

_That's the blood loss talking, you don't actually want to die, do you?_

 

Not dying. It wasn't about dying. It was about being free. He was weightless, he was stripped bare from everything that had ever been hurtful, from every scar and every fear. He felt good. Unconditionally good. Light. Free. He felt like laughing, because everything could have been this easy all the time and he had been so afraid of it. There was nothing bad about this, he could stay here, he didn't have to struggle with anything any longer...

 

...and suddenly, the pain was back, sharper and more clearly than before, searing and burning every nerve in his body. He bucked up and tried to escape it, but that only made it hurt even _more._ He couldn't breathe, his lungs were – no, his lungs were fine, somebody was pressing their hand over his mouth so he couldn't spit out the whatever-was-in-there _._ Gentle fingers were massaging his throat until he involuntarily swallowed, almost choking on the object. Its taste was painfully overwhelming, burning its way down his throat and adding to the horrible sensory overload.

 

“Shht, yes, just like that,” Loki's voice whispered. “Keep it down. A little more, love, a little more.”

 

Tony squirmed, blinking and trying to adjust to everything around him. He wanted to go back, he had just been settling in, it had been so peaceful, and now the world was back, crushing him with its weight. He caught a glimpse of the curly-haired woman again before he closed his eyes, trying to fall back asleep or unconscious or whatever it had been.

 

Loki's arm around his torso kept him pressed to the god's chest firmly as he forced another piece of the... _apple?..._ between Tony's lips before holding his mouth closed again. The inventor wanted to scream at him, _why would you do this, stop it, don't do this to me,_ but everything that escaped him was a dry sob and the hand was back on his throat. Tony managed to chew on the thing once before his swallowing reflex kicked in, and he still gagged on it.

 

He hoped that this was it, that he could go back to his peaceful little place now, but no, Loki was merciless, forcing one slice after another into the engineer while muttering about how he was _good_ , to continue _just like that_ , always followed by a soft _my love_. Only after the fourth or fifth piece, Tony noticed that he was actually beginning to feel _better_. The pain was still there, but it was dulled, like a burn that someone had laid an ice pack onto. He stopped struggling then and let Loki feed him, his eyes closing as he enjoyed the feeling of _finally_ not being in that much pain anymore. He was probably slipping again, but he really didn't have the strength to prevent it any longer.

 

#

 

There were no dreams or nightmares disturbing his sleep this time, but that was partially due to the fact that he felt like he had only just closed his eyes when he woke up again. Groggily, he blinked up at the ceiling and swallowed drily. The first thing he noticed was the taste in his mouth, like blood and... something faintly sweet, which really didn't go well together. The next thing was the pleasant absence of pain and he sighed softly. That was something he really hadn't missed.

 

He glanced around in the room he was in – probably something like an infirmary, since there were small beds lined up on the walls, but he was the only person in here. _Where's Loki?_ , was one of his first coherent thoughts, but he shook his head and forced it away into a corner of his mind. Loki had something better to do than sit at his bedside like a lovesick maiden. Frost Giants in Asgard, that sort of thing.

 

Since nobody seemed to be around, Tony tried to sit up and froze momentarily as he noticed the leather straps around his wrists, tying him to the bed. Carefully, he tested their strength, tugging hesitantly at first, then with more vehemence. _What the fuck?_ He felt his own breath growing faster as he pulled on the restraints. This was a joke, right? This wasn't real. He was still asleep, he was having a nightmare, he was _not_ helplessly tied to a bed, there was a joke in there somewhere, he just had to find it.

 

After a minute of increasingly frantic struggling, the door opened and Tony stilled as he saw Hogun and Volstagg stumbling in, carrying Fandral between them. The blond spotted him immediately and raised his eyebrows.

 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Tony commented, grateful for the distraction, at the same time that Fandral asked: “What are you doing here?”

 

Before either of them could answer each other's question, the dark-haired woman from before hurried into the room and man-handled... uh, woman-handled Fandral onto one of the beds. He grimaced and groaned between gritted teeth, his eyes clenched shut, before taking a deep breath and forcing a smile onto his lips.

 

Right. Ridiculous Aesir warrior pride. Loki had said a thing or two about that. Mostly focussing on the _ridiculous_ part.

 

“What happened?”, the woman, probably a healer, demanded.

 

“Nothing severe,” Fandral responded easily. “Just... _ow_!”

 

“Yes, nothing severe, I see,” she sighed and snapped at Hogun and Volstagg: “Out with you, I cannot work if you two stand in the way and pressure him into acting like everything is fine.”

 

“They do not-” The swordsman cut himself off with a pained groan when the healer pulled his furry cloak away from his chest, his hands clawing on the sheets of the bed.

 

“I see,” she answered coolly. “Didn't you hear me? _Out_ , unless you need medical care yourself.” After a beat of hesitation, Hogun and Volstagg left the room with a last glance towards their injured comrade. As soon as the door closed, she pressed on: “What happened?”

 

Fandral hissed as she cut away the fabric around the wound and answered: “I got impaled by – _helvete_ , be careful, would you? – by an ice spear.”

 

“I wasn't aware that you taken up sparring with the elementalists,” the woman commented drily.

 

“I haven't,” Fandral responded, his voice strained with the effort to keep it neutral. Tony settled back into his cushions and listened carefully, trying to gain as much information as possible. “Thor took us to Jotunheim and-”

 

“ _What_?!”, the healer interrupted, stopping dead in her tracks. “He did _what_?”

 

“He- he wanted to take revenge on the Jotnar for ruining his coronation and...”

 

“And you supported him,” she cut him off incredulously. Fandral squirmed uncomfortably, staring at the ceiling while she dabbed the blood from his chest. “You and your reckless friends didn't try to stop him, but rather accompanied him, yes?” The blond made a vaguely confirming sound, still staring at the ceiling. “I knew that his temper would cause him great troubles sooner or later,” the healer muttered. “And I suppose that Loki was in on it, too? He cannot seem to stay out of mischief, can he?”

 

“Actually, Loki tried to stop him,” Fandral admitted. “And he did not accompany us right away, but caught up with us when we were already battling these monsters.” Tony blinked and was glad that nobody was paying him any attention. _I think I know where Loki was before he came to save your asses._ The thought made him remember something else and he instinctively raised his hand to feel the reactor that Freyja had crushed, but he was still fixed on the bed. But there _was_ something in his chest, he could feel its weight, it was not the hollow that Freyja had left him with. Craning his neck, he glanced down at his chest, squirming until the blanket draped over him slipped down enough for him to catch sight of the old reactor. He had to swallow several times to suppress the nausea that was immediately welling up in his stomach. _It's okay. It won't be there for long. We can craft another replacement, we know how to do it._

 

He sighed, laying back against the pillow behind him and closing his eyes. He felt better, impossibly so, a _lot_ better – magical healing would do that to you, apparently – but he was still exhausted. He knew there had been something. Something that he was supposed to remember. Something that had happened between Freyr stabbing him and waking up here. The only thing he remembered were blurred voices, slipping in and out of focus, and an the overwhelming feeling of peace and quiet that he had been pulled out of. Although he was now aware that it had probably been a near-death-experience and shouldn't be the least bit positive, it was still terrifyingly beautiful and he caught himself wishing that he could go back to that state.

 

Loki's voice snapped him out of his dozing and he blinked back into awareness.

 

“...had an argument,” the god was saying, standing next to Tony's bed, but looking at Fandral. “Father... exiled him for his recklessness and insolence,” he continued, sounding hesitant and almost defeated, and the injured swordsman jerked upright with a startled gasp. “To...”

 

“Wait, who exiled whom and whereto?”, the inventor demanded, pushing himself upright, _and fuck these fucking bonds already, he didn't need to be held down_.

 

Loki jumped and turned towards him, looking almost frightened for a second, before he relaxed with a small smile and breathed: “You are awake.”

 

“No shit, Sherlock. Could you, by any chance, tell me why I am tied to the fucking bed?”, Tony demanded, pointedly pulling on the bounds around his wrists.

 

“You were thrashing around,” the prince explained, pulling the blanket back to expose Tony's wrists so he could begin to get rid of the leather straps keeping the engineer in place. “We needed you to stay still so you wouldn't restart the bleeding over and over again.” He carefully kept his gaze fixed on Tony's hand, but the inventor noticed his nervousness anyway. While the god continued to talk, he observed. “I caught up with Thor and his friends when they were already engaged in combat in Jotunheim...” He told the story with a calm voice, so calm that it seemed unnatural. Like he was working too hard to keep his emotions in check, making it feel abnormal. Fandral didn't seem to notice, he just filled the gaps in the mage's explanations in with comments every once in a while.

 

Apparently, Loki and the Warriors Three had failed to convince Thor of retreating from Jotunheim, despite them being largely outnumbered. They had engaged in combat and, surprisingly enough, survived; after the elder prince had slain the Behemoth that had been after them, Odin had shown up and apparently saved the asses of the young Asgardians. At this point, the narratives split: Fandral had been brought to the infirmary while Loki stayed back to witness the fight between Odin and Thor, which resulted in his elder brother being banished to... somewhere Loki either didn't know or didn't want to tell. Directly after that, the mage had come here.

 

Now that Tony paid attention to it, he found Loki's distress almost scarily obvious, and while the god spoke, Tony observed. Loki looked shaken. His usually strong, slender fingers were trembling slightly and one of his forearms was bare, the armour just... stopping at his elbow, like somebody had broken part of it away. There was no wound, the skin was unbroken, the armour that was supposed to be covering it was just gone. Without being an armourer, Tony knew that that shouldn't be possible. Loki's eyes seemed just that little bit too wide, and his skittishness was entirely unusual. Unsettling, even.

 

“...all of that was, of course, _after_ we finished treating you, which is why I came to Jotunheim after Thor and the others did,” Loki finished.

 

“We? Who's we?”, the inventor asked, just to keep the conversation going so he could watch for a little bit longer.

 

“Me and Eir,” the mage explained, moving to Tony's other arm. “She is the most capable healer in all of Asgard.”

 

That must be the curly-haired woman from before, then. The engineer nodded slowly and flexed his fingers. Being tied down had brought him right back to the brink of panic, even if it was in a friendly environment like this.

 

“I see,” he said, his tone carefully levelled. “So you two... saved me.” It was still sort of surrealistic – he had been stabbed, and he had already been slipping into another, more abstract, more... peaceful state when he had been pulled back into reality. And he had been okay with it. Carefully, he peeked under the covers. He was still in his leather trousers, but his chest and belly were bare – and where he expected the wounds to be, there was nothing but smooth skin. Sure, there were small, older scars, but not the three fresh ones that were supposed to be there.

 

“Well, it was not entirely our skill that saved you,” the god admitted, straightening up after he had untied Tony's second wrist.

 

“No?”, the inventor asked, self-consciously draping the blanket back over his body. “You had help, then?” The idea caused equal amounts of curiosity (whom would Loki call to help him?) and discomfort (how many people had seen him weak, had seen the reactor?).

 

“That is one way of saying it,” Loki nodded with a slight smile, gently brushing a strand of hair away from Tony's forehead. The inventor closed his eyes and relaxed slightly, allowing himself to be comforted by the careful touch. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but to himself, he could confess that he needed the feeling of being safe right now. “We used one of Idunn's apples, for even Eir's magic could not heal your wounds completely, what with your fragile mortal body...”

 

“Ah,” Tony made quietly, not really paying attention. It took a few seconds for the words to really register in his mind, and when they did, he tensed up under Loki's hand. “ _Wait_ ,” he said, sitting up abruptly to stare at Loki, not even paying attention to the fact that the sheets were pooling in his lap so Fandral could see the reactor. “You used one of the apples? The- the golden apple things you told me about?”

 

“Yes,” Loki confirmed with a small nod and a confused frown.

 

Tony felt as though someone had pulled a rug out from under him. Weakly, he asked: “The things that make you immortal. _Those_ apples.” The prince had told him about them at some point while explaining Asgardian customs and it had sounded interesting enough back then, but now...

 

“Those apples,” Loki confirmed. “Anthony, are you...”

 

“Alright?”, Tony finished, a slightly hysterical edge to his voice. “Alright? Do I look fucking alright to you? No, don't answer that, just don't. You used _Idunn's apples_ on me?!”

 

“I just said that, didn't I?” The mage reached out, but Tony flinched violently and shook his head vehemently.

 

“You didn't,” he rasped, just to say _something_ , anything to not sit here and stare at Loki like some sort of dead fish. His voice raising slowly, he repeated: “You didn't. You- you didn't feed me one of these damn things, you didn't just... just _make me immortal_ , like that's your call to make, you can't just decide that sort of thing!”

 

He was working himself up into a frenzy, he knew it, but he had every right to do so. _Immortal._ An eternity away from everything he had called home for the biggest part of his life, unable to return there although it was constantly being dangled in front of his nose. For ten years, twenty – painful, but – _human_. Millennia?

 

_You could have thought of something better, couldn't you? I am not letting you go, Anthony_ , Loki's words from seemingly so long ago echoed through his head. He had asked the prince for allowance to return to Earth to find materials to replace the palladium core of the reactor with, and he had been dismissed with a scornful, mocking comment which didn't leave the subject open for discussion. 

 

“Are you really reproaching me for saving your life? What should I have done?”, Loki snapped back. His hands were clenched into fists and his voice gained in volume.

 

“I don't know, maybe fucking _ask_ me or something!”, Tony yelled, curling his fingers around the blanket in his lap. 

 

“You were hardly in a position to answer questions,” the prince remarked sharply.

 

“Well, you could have waited 'till I was!” Was Loki seriously expecting that he'd just smile and say _thank you_? The god was smarter than that, wasn't he? 

 

“I could _not_ , you fool, you were bleeding out!”, Loki responded vehemently.

 

“So that gave you the right to decide that I'm not gonna live seventy or eighty, but _thousands_ of years? And that wasn't worth asking?”, Tony shouted, his throat already feeling hoarse again. Loki just didn't seem to understand what he was doing – what he _had done_ , what it meant to somebody who was as comparatively short-lived as Tony to be casually confronted with the fact that _oh, by the way, you're immortal now_.

 

Now, Loki was outright yelling, too: “What is your suggestion then? Would you rather have died than be saved?”

 

“ _Yes!_ ” Loki flinched as if Tony had hit him. Immediately, the inventor realized what he had just said (or, rather, screamed) and deflated slightly. Heavy silence had settled in the room. “Look, Loki, you don't understand...”

 

“No,” the prince cut him off, his voice carefully quiet. “No, I think I understand perfectly well.” He swallowed and then nodded tersely. “I shall leave you alone, then.”

 

“Oh come on, I...”, Tony began, but Loki had already whirled around and left the room, closing the door behind him. Softly. No slamming, just softly clicking it shut. The inventor stared at it for a moment and slumped back into the cushions. “Fuck,” he breathed softly. “Oh fuck, what did I just say?”

 

Fandral, having stayed silent during the whole argument, now spoke up from his bed: “You told him that you would rather die than be with him.” His voice was carefully levelled, like he was making an effort to keep every emotion, every judgement out of it, but Tony could still hear the reproach, the accusation in it.

 

“Yeah, rub it in my face,” he muttered. “No, don't answer me, please. I fucked up, I know. But he really had no right to...”

 

“...to save your life?”, the swordsman cut in. His tone was practically dripping with sarcasm. “Yes, how horrible. How could he do that to you?”

 

“Just shut up, you two don't get my point. I can't expect you to,” Tony muttered, staring up at the ceiling. He felt his vision starting to swim, but like hell was he going to have a crying fit in front of Fandral.

 

Although he did really feel like it. He had been kidnapped, stabbed, and had just thanked the person he was closest to for saving his life by telling them to fuck off. He was surprised that he hadn't had at least three heart attacks during this whole ordeal, especially with the stunt that Freyja had pulled.

 

_I can fix this_ , he promised himself, rolling onto his side. With a hint of bitter sarcasm, he added,  _I have all the time in the world to do so._ But for now, he would try to grant his body the sleep it was screaming for. 

 

#

 

He woke up from a piercing pain in his chest, all around the reactor, making him cringe and curl in on himself. It felt like something was moving inside of him – dozens of little metal shards fighting to reach his heart... but that wasn't possible, he had a functioning reactor in his chest,  _nothing_ could be moving in there. 

 

_Phantom pain_ , he told himself, biting his lip to prevent a pained groan from escaping him. He wasn't alone, after all.  _Just extremely... painfully... realistic... phantom pain._

 

He clawed at the sheets underneath him, clenching his eyes shut and trying to think of something else. It didn't work, but after hours or minutes, he wasn't sure, he was passing out again.

 

It didn't just happen once. He kept slipping between sharp agony and blissful nothingness, losing all awareness of time. Somebody was making him eat and drink several times – he tried to count the meals as a way to measure the passing time and remembered about four, but he didn't even know how many times a day they fed him, so that wasn't very reliable.

 

He had moments of awareness, though, he wasn't completely out of it. He saw the young healers who were nourishing him, although he didn't bother with memorizing their faces. Loki was there once when he woke up, standing next to the bed in his full armour with cape and everything. He carried a large, golden spear with him and fled the room as soon as Tony opened his eyes.

 

The routine was broken when he didn't wake from the pain, sweaty and sore, but from the sound of the door being slammed open and harsh voices disrupting the silence. Facing the window, he could see that it was dark outside and the only light came from the city's golden glow, accompanied from the colourful light from the Bifröst bridge.

 

Tony sat up and turned around to see what the commotion was all about. Fandral (who was up and running again – he must  _really_ have missed something) and Hogun came staggering through the door, which was held open by Eir, both of the warriors swaying under the weight of the guy in the massive golden armour between them.

 

Wait, wasn't that their gatekeeper? It was definitely no good sign if that one was down, was it?

 

“What the hell is happening?”, he demanded, swinging his feet off the edge of the bed and wincing at the stab of pain that the movement prompted. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to ignore it.

 

“Loki deceived us,” Fandral replied after a moment of silence, his eyes locking with the engineer's. With a tired, defeated expression, he continued: “The king – the _old_ king fell into the Odinsleep. Loki ascended the throne and sent the Destroyer to Midgard to kill Thor and us. When we returned here, we found two Jotnar dead at Heimdall's feet on the Bifröst.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down a minute,” Tony stammered, trying to grasp everything that the swordsman was telling him. Fandral had stepped closer to his bed so he didn't get in the way of the healers behind him. “Loki is king now?” An affirmative nod. “And he... he tried to murder his brother and – I'll just assume that _we_ meant the Warriors Three, yeah? I- I don't get any of this, why would he do that?”

 

“I wish I could give you an answer,” Fandral replied quietly, tearing his gaze away from Tony to stare out of the window. The inventor reminded himself that the guy had already been in love with Loki before Tony had even been born; a betrayal like that had to hurt in more ways than one.

 

How long had he been in his half-conscious state to miss so much? It seemed like the whole city had gone to hell while he had been sleeping.

 

Then, another thing that he'd said came back to Tony and he asked, his voice tentative because he didn't really want an answer: “Did you say Midgard?” One more mute nod from Fandral. “But he said... he said he didn't know where Thor has been banished to,” the inventor recalled, practically pleading Fandral to give him another explanation than the one that was slowly forming in his mind.

 

But the swordsman only smiled bitterly, looking back at Tony, and responded: “He lied. We should really not be surprised.”

 

_Father exiled him for his recklessness and insolence, to..._ At that point, Tony had cut Loki off with his questions. Before that, the prince hadn't noticed that he had been awake – would he have told the truth if he had thought that Tony was still sleeping? 

 

_Why?_ What the hell was he afraid of? That Tony might demand to follow Thor? Not that Loki would let him, anyway. And even if he did... even after the things he had thrown at the god during their screaming match, Tony wasn't sure if he really wanted to go. 

 

Of course, there was a part of him that missed Earth, a part that needed to find out what had happened during his absence. But another one, maybe even bigger than that first one, was terrified of what he might find. This part had given up returning home long ago, and now that there was a possibility to do so, it shied away from it. Not only because of the persons who could have changed back home, but also because of the way that he had changed. How would Pepper react to seeing him like this? With a set of new scars, a night light in his chest and half a year of trauma behind him? He would be expected to take the company again, to mingle during parties around hundreds of persons and act like all of this had never happened, because no sane person would believe a word from the stories that he had to tell.

 

“Where's Loki now?”, he asked hoarsely.

 

“I don't know,” Fandral answered. 

 

“Thanks, that's helpful,” Tony muttered. “Where _could_ he be? Any ideas?”

 

“The throne room, possibly,” the blond mused, “or- there have to be more of these monsters, he can't possibly bring only two Jotnar here...”

 

“Why would he bring them here at all?!”, Tony demanded, standing up from the bed. He swayed slightly on his feet, but he was grateful for the adrenaline that was starting to numb the pain in his chest. “Don't answer that, actually, why are we standing here and talking if there's an invasion? Does anyone but you guys know about that?”

 

“No,” Fandral responded, his hand tightening on the handle of the sword on his hip. “You should really not be moving, you...”

 

“I am _fine_ , why the hell are we still here? There are five persons in total who know of this and we stand here and debate whether I should stay in bed some more? Come on, you're better than that,” Tony urged, making his way towards the door. Luckily, Eir was too busy with Heimdall to pay him any attention. “Okay, we'll just have to search. I'll look in his private rooms,” _and get a tunic, because running through the palace while shirtless is probably not approved of in Asgard,_ “and you go search... somewhere else.” 

 

For him, it wasn't about saving Asgard, although that was probably a great side-effect. It was about finding Loki and keeping the idiot from bringing himself into deeper trouble – something must have happened to make the prince (no,  _former_ prince, now king) snap like that, this had never been the plan.

 

Or had it?

 

_Who says that stopping Thor was all about you and Freyja?_ He shook his head. This was the wrong time to think about that. 

 

“Okay, uh, where's the royal wing again?”, he asked instead. Focussing on not getting lost was a good idea. 

 

Fandral pointed him into the right direction and then set off with Hogun to another part of the palace. Tony set off towards his and Loki's rooms in a light run and was incredibly grateful that it wasn't too far from the medical wing. That reduced the number of people who saw him like this.

 

While he was on his way, he posed the question that he'd avoided so far: What was he going to do when he found Loki? Possibly in the company of these Frost Giants that the Aesir seemed to fear so much? It wasn't like he had the power to stop a god from doing what he wanted, especially not this one. 

 

He wouldn't be Tony Stark if he didn't try.

 

Still, there was a distinct feeling of dread in his stomach when he pushed the door to Loki's chambers open. Quietly, he called out: “Loki?” No answer. He entered, feeling like he intruded some sort of sanctum, and searched through the rooms. The bedroom, the study, the room where armours and clothes hung, the balcony, something that seemed like an armoury. He hadn't known that there were so many rooms.

 

But Loki was in none of them, so Tony hurried into his own room and pulled one of the tunics out of the wardrobe, only half noticing its blue colour. While he pulled it on, he noticed that he had left his boots in the infirmary. Well, it didn't matter with Asgard's polished golden floors, anyway. There was nothing to step on here.

 

He left his room again in a haste and, in lack of a better idea, headed towards the throne room. Halfway there, he met Fandral, who greeted him with: “I know where he is!”

 

“Spill the beans, buddy,” Tony demanded. The swordsman motioned for him to follow as he ran down a corridor and Tony hurried to keep up. Even the adrenaline couldn't fully dull the ache in his chest and he had to fight consciously to ignore it.

 

When he rounded a corner, Fandral was waiting impatiently by a window and pointed outside. Sarcastically, he remarked: “It is hard not to find him.”

 

The engineer looked outside. From here, they had a clear view on the Bifröst bridge and the dome at its end. There was a ray of lightning or energy or whatever it was that the thing used, disappearing into the blackness of the void beneath.

 

“What on earth is he doing?”, Tony asked incredulously. 

 

“I have no idea,” came the honest reply.

 

“And now?”

 

“Who told me not to stand around and talk just some minutes ago?”, Fandral retorted and seized Tony's wrist as he broke into a run again. “Maybe we can still stop him, whatever he is doing.”

 

The inventor scrambled to keep up with his companion's pace and tried not to mind how uncomfortable he was with being dragged along like this. He didn't want to be left behind, so he tried to focus on the thought that Fandral didn't deem him useless enough to go off on his own. Or he could focus on running. Yeah, that was good.

 

By the time they were out of the palace (why did it have to be so unnecessarily big?), the glow around the Bifröst had intensified. It had become a blinding light, even from up in the city, with energy crackling around it in a terrifying display of beauty. Tony's chest heaved with the effort of breathing too fast and too rapidly, black dots swimming in his vision.

 

Fandral dragged him towards the stables and they mounted the first saddled horses that they found.  _Bless all the damn riding lessons._ In a sharp gallop, the swordsman set out for the bridge, and Tony prayed that he didn't just fall off of his mount at the speed they were going. It really wasn't helping him to catch his breath.

 

Despite the insane pace that they brought the horses to, the way felt like it was taking ages to Tony. The further they got, the more intimidating the sight in front of them became. The light got brighter, the white ray of light that disappeared somewhere into the void became blinding, and the crackling of energy around the dome grew more intense.

 

When they reached the beginning of bridge itself, the inventor was able to make out small figures at the far end. Swirls of green and red. Loki and Thor. Fighting, apparently. Tony tried to spur his mount to an even faster pace when he saw how Thor put his goddamn  _hammer_ onto Loki's chest to keep his brother from moving before he turned around to try walking into the blaze of energy that the dome emitted. 

 

Why was this fucking bridge so damn long?!

 

After a minute of pointless trying-to-walk-into-the-thing, Thor extended his arm backwards and Mjölnir came flying to him. Tony almost forgot to hold on to the horse's mane as he saw how the elder prince raised his arm and brought the hammer down onto the bridge. Again. And again. Tony swore that he could feel it shaking underneath his mount.

 

He was close enough now to see how Loki straightened up with some effort, grabbing the golden spear again, and came to his feet, swaying dangerously. As soon as he had somehow regained his balance, he pounced on Thor with a powerful leap, in the same moment when the thunderer brought Mjölnir down for a last time. 

 

The resulting shock wave ripped Tony out of the saddle. A giant wave rose from the ocean around Asgard, partly crashing down on the bridge and pushing the inventor back with its force. He heard a panicked whinny from his horse and curled up on himself on instinct while shudders ran through his body, both from the cold and the water and from the almost palpable energy that washed over him like a second breaker. There was the creaking and moaning of bending and breaking metal, and, almost inaudible over the noise of the breaking bridge, somebody screaming.  _Loki_ .

 

Disorientated, Tony opened his eyes again and staggered to his feet, dripping wet, looking around and trying to regain some sense of direction.

 

The dome at the end of the Bifröst was  _gone_ . Completely and utterly gone. The bridge ended in a jagged mess of sharp edges, and on its very end crouched Odin – where the hell had that guy come from?! – holding on to a leather boot – Thor? Tony broke into a run when he caught a glimpse of Loki's green cape fluttering in the pull of the void underneath. 

 

Distantly, he could hear the prince's voice, shrill, almost hysterical, and close to breaking: “I could have done it, father! I could have done it!” Could have done what? Killed Thor? Let the Frost Giants in? Just what the hell was he talking about? “For you! For all of us!” The last bit sounded more than a plea than anything else.

 

Odin's voice carried through the nothingness, heavy, but strong: “No, Loki.” It were just two words, but they couldn't express the rejection of whatever Loki had begged Odin to understand any more clearly.

 

Fandral was behind Tony, also heading for the edge of the bridge, but the inventor was there first. Without sparing the All-Father as much as a glance, he slithered to a halt, almost falling over the edge himself. Not quite of his own volition, his legs gave in and he knelt down at the end of the bridge, holding on to the ledge tightly while he leaned forward.

 

“Loki, no,” Thor was saying with a slightly warning, but mostly pleading undertone.

 

Tony's eyes locked with Loki's. They were bright with tears and when he saw the inventor, Loki's last line of defence seemed to shatter. He exhaled a wordless breath, and a single tear slipped down his cheek. For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to say something, slowly beginning to form words, when Odin carefully began to move backwards, pulling his sons back onto the bridge.

 

Loki's eyes snapped to his father as he noticed the movement, back to Tony, and, closing his eyes in something that looked like defeat, he let go of the spear.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't understand half of what was going on in this chapter: Don't mind it. Tony doesn't, either. He's delirious, in pain or dying most of the time. It's meant to be that way.  
> EDIT: Chapter 18 and 19 in Loki's POV can be found as "The Fall", part six of the series. :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Loki's fall involves tears, a sending and shrapnel shards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I'm sorry. I'm SO sorry it's taken so long. I wanted to make a little Loki special and it became a 44-page-monster full of feels that's referred to as The Fall, and I really hope you have read it because it might or might not be important for the flow of the story.  
> Secondly, if you're expecting comfort now, prepare to be disappointed. I'm sorry.

“ _Loki!_ ”, Tony screamed on the top of his lungs, reaching down from the edge with one hand as if there was any chance to catch Loki, who was falling impossibly, tortuously slowly. He leaned forward, _he had to do something_ , felt himself losing his balance and the hand that had been holding on the the edge slipped. For a split-second, he believed that he was going to follow the prince down into the abyss, but then, an arm was slung around his chest and pulled him back from the void. Tony struggled and fought to be released. “Let me go, for fuck's sake, someone has to do something, you can't just sit here and watch this! Let me go, _now_ , I have to –“

 

“Anthony,” Fandral interrupted quietly, holding the engineer back firmly, “it's too late.”

 

“It's not,” Tony whispered, “it's not, it's not, it's not, let me go, please...”

 

“Anthony,” the swordsman repeated, but didn't add anything else this time. There was a quiet, hollow resignation in his voice and Tony closed his eyes and went limp in his grasp, taking deep, shaky breath so he wouldn't begin to hyperventilate.

 

Blinking slowly, he watched as Odin pulled Thor back up onto the bridge. There were tears openly gathering in the prince's eyes and Tony felt Fandral resting his forehead on his shoulder from behind. He swallowed, staring at the vast expanse of stars and space in front of him while he tried to ignore the warmth of the body pressed against him from behind. The feeling made him sick. It had been okay with Loki, that had been different, but having someone else this close was freaking him out.

 

“Let me go,” he rasped, struggling against the man's hold on him. When he didn't release him immediately, Tony snapped: “Look, I'm not gonna jump after him, for fuck's sake, just let me the hell go, I need to– I gotta get away from here. Get your damn hands off me, Fandral.” He could feel Odin's eye on him and briefly wondered what the penalty for swearing in front of the ruler of the universe was, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that. Not right now. As soon as the swordman's grip relented, Tony scrambled to his feet and began to flee from the verge of the bridge. On his bare feet, he was permanently close to slipping on its wer surface, but he kept his head down and his eyes fixed on the ground before him, not stopping for even a second.

 

Fandral caught up with him after a minute, faster on his leather boots than Tony, who still didn't quite trust his sense of balance yet. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the blond reaching out to him and shook his head rapidly. He couldn't accept comfort now, not from anyone but Loki; if he did, he would have to acknowledge that this was something else than a crazed, fever-induced dream haunting him while his body adjusted to the changes that Loki had brought upon him.

 

Speaking of which: his chest fucking hurt. Every breath felt like it was setting the skin around the reactor on fire and Tony wrapped his hands around his middle and fisted them in the fabric of the tunic to keep himself from scratching the skin bloody until the painful itching disappeared.

 

He'd go back to his room, and Loki would be right next door in case he needed something. Asgardian painkillers, for example. Yeah, those would be a great idea. Loki would take care of that. He always took care of everything.

 

Tony drew a ragged breath and tried to not let it catch in his throat. Loki would be there. He'd come back and Loki would be there. He was always there.

 

He flinched at another touch on his shoulder and glanced up at Fandral, who had collected one of the horses they had used to get here. The second one was nowhere in sight, but the inventor silently nodded his thanks as he mounted the mare with Fandral's help and finally didn't have to fight to stay upright anymore.

 

The swordsman got into the saddle behind him, but only touched him as much as was necessary to steer their mount back towards the golden city. Black clouds were gathering above it; Tony had never seen the starry skies clouded before, apart from little, fluffy white clouds.

 

“ _They are more of a decoration,” Loki stated with a shrug, leaning back against the wall behind the bench on his balcony. “Asgard is more of... how would you call it? It is a station. It's a city on a small world, a flat one, to cry that out loud. Actual planets do not work like that. It's all powered and run by magic, it wouldn't be close to being inheritable without it. There are no seasons here, it is always the same. Weather and clouds and the like are made for distraction and change, and since everybody is used to sun and warmth, why would anyone wish for rain or, Norns forbid, snow? Thunderstorms, we get those when Thor throws his tantrums, and apart from that, the weather is always good.”_

 

There was thunder crackling in the distance now and Tony lowered his eyes, staring down at the horse's mane while they trotted back through the outskirts of the city towards the palace. He zoned out during the ride back and winced when Fandral nudged him gently, directing him off of the horse and towards a smaller entrance of the palace, near the stables. He let himself be led, but evaded any form of physical contact until they stood in front of his door.

 

Only then, he looked up at Fandral. The swordsman had a haunted look in his eyes and kept glancing towards the door to Loki's quarters as though he expected it to open at any second to reveal Loki, who would tell him to _search yourself some skirt to charm your way under, Fandral, but stop invading my wing or I will set a bounty on your head_ before he ushered him away.

 

“Shall I collect you for the sending tonight?” he asked quietly. “There will be a feast in Loki's honour, most likely this eve. I doubt that they will delay it until tomorrow.”

 

Tony swallowed, a sour taste in his mouth. “Yeah, sure,” he replied, wrapping his arms tighter around himself as he tried to ignore the pain that each breath carried with it.

 

Fandral seemed like he wanted to say something else, but couldn't come up with any words to express whatever he wished to tell. Tony understood what he felt. The emptiness that started to spread in him, growing with each time that he expected Loki to round a corner or open a door or make a comment about something and there was nothing. Maybe that was what realisation would feel like when not only the logical part of his mind had caught up with what had happened, but also the one that waited for everything to go back to normal in a second.

 

He wondered how that must feel for someone who had loved Loki for centuries.

 

“Alright then,” he eventually said, breaking the tense, uncomfortable silence that filled the empty hallway. “I'll just – I'll be in my room.”

 

“Yes, of course,” Fandral murmured, eyes downcast. “I will see you during the feast.”

 

Tony nodded and took a step backwards, then another one, until he felt the door in his back and grasped for the handle blindly. With a last glance towards the swordsman, he leaned back against the door to push it open and slip inside. It clicked shut behind him and the engineer just stood in the room for a minute, not knowing what to do with himself now that he was here and alone with his thoughts.

 

He realised just how dependent on Loki he had been – still was. All his days here, different from each other as they might be, had had one fundamental constant; _Loki_. He'd worked himself from one meeting with the god to the next. Breakfast with Loki; working until Loki was back; spend the afternoon with Loki; go to bed when Loki went to bed; wake up when Loki woke him (or was there to calm him after a nightmare had done so). The closest he had to that now was Fandral's promise to get him for the sending.

 

The sending. The official farewell from Asgard to Loki. Because Loki was _gone_.

 

“ _Wait, so let me get this straight,” Tony interrupted, pointing at the book. “Her husband dies and the first thing she does is throw a giant party and get drunk and dance and everything? How does that work?”_

 

“ _The sending is supposed to remind those remaining ones of all the good sides of the deceased,” Loki explained with the hint of a smile around his lips. “See it like this: if you died, would you want to see your loved ones perish in grief? The feast should help them to preserve the happiness they have experienced with the deceased ones.” He paused, a thoughtful look in his eyes as the smile got lost somewhere. There was something unreadable in his eyes as he slowly continued: “You know, Aesir live for millennia. Your thirty-nine years are a heartbeat.” His hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out for Tony but stopped himself. “Maybe that is why we are so intent on not being sad about death, because it is something we rarely see, because it just doesn't happen all that often. I'm a little over a thousand years old and I have been to two sendings so far. It is rare and that is why it's so scary.”_

 

Finally, he gave in to the pain in his chest and sank to his knees in the middle of the chamber.

 

~*~

 

Fandral didn't comment on his red-rimmed eyes when he came knocking on the door some hours later. Tony returned his greeting, tugging at the sleeves of his tunic. He had put away the blue one in favour of the dark green one with the golden inlays that Freyr hadn't stabbed through, had bathed and washed sweat, blood and tears off his body; for one so he would finally feel clean again, but mostly so he would have something to do and hopefully distract himself from his thoughts.

 

As it turned out, washing himself with something that smelled exactly like the hint of herbal scent that he sometimes had caught on Loki did not help him to think of something else.

 

“Wear this,” Fandral instructed, holding out something black, leathery in Tony's direction.

 

“I'll stick with the green,” the inventor responded, a hint of defiance in his voice. If the court knew the whole story, which he doubted, then Loki was going to be branded a traitor; but no matter if that was the case or not, Tony was going to take a stand there. He would either attend in Loki's colours or not at all.

 

“Of course,” the swordsman nodded, not questioning him for even a second, and spread the garment out in his hands. It turned out to be a leather vest that would probably fall down to Tony's hip. “You can keep the tunic. Just wear this above it. It's a little more... formal.”

 

“Ah,” Tony made quietly. “Alright. Could you just...” He made a vague gesture around the room. “...set it down on the bed or something. I'm not good with being handed things.”

 

Fandral gave him a short, odd glance, but didn't ask, just draped the vest over the back of an armchair so Tony could pick it up from there. He shrugged it on and tugged at the material to straighten it. Apparently, it belonged to Fandral, since it was slightly too big, but it wasn't large enough to feel ridiculous. There were no laces on the front, the stiff leather broadened his shoulders slightly and its black colour accentuated the gold in the tunic's collar without hiding the green.

 

“Thanks,” he muttered. “Let's get going, then.”

 

Fandral led him into the great hall that Tony had only seen once or twice before. Now, music and laughter could be heard even before they stepped through the open doors. Tony resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself again; he may be not at home here, but he had learned enough about the customs here to know that showing weakness was never a good idea, and especially in the position that he was in, he needed to put up a strong facade.

 

He followed the swordsman through the whole hall to the front, keeping his gaze straight ahead and doing his best to ignore the eyes he could feel on him. That meant he had to look at the table they were heading towards, though; Odin sat at the head end, Thor on his right and Frigga on his left. Except for Fandral, the Warriors Three had already gathered there and since Tony was sure that he could hold none of _their_ gazes, he ended up looking at Frigga.

 

There was nothing from the caring mother he had gotten to know before. She was smiling and laughing at the stories the others told, but Tony had seen the way her eyes lit up when she was honestly happy and her eyes crinkled when she laughed around Loki. Now, she was holding up the image of the queen that her people wanted to see, someone who was strong and reliable even when a wayward son wreaked chaos in the royal family.

 

He broke eye contact when he sat down on the wooden bench next to Fandral. Uncomfortably, he stared at the plate in front of him, his shoulders tense and his breath short and shallow because it still hurt like hell. The glances he got from the others made it more than clear that he didn't belong here; a slave at one table with the king, queen and the prince's closest friends? That was so many shades of wrong.

 

Well, then again, what did it matter? He could do whatever he wanted now, he'd be back on the slave market in a day or two anyway. After all, what use was a slave without an owner?

 

For the sake of courtesy, he murmured a quiet greeting and then began to pick at his food silently. He listened to the conversations around him, the stories told in honour of the _fallen prince_ , the occasional remark thrown in by Fandral so he wouldn't appear too quiet. Thor's usually loud and booming voice had quieted down and a quick glance in his direction told Tony that he, too, looked like he had been crying.

 

He was glad that he didn't have to say anything, to let the people around him do the talking, and maybe, if he was quiet enough, they would just forget he was there.

 

Tony's head snapped up when he heard his name. He met Sif's nearly golden eyes and, since he hadn't actually listened to what she had said, asked quietly: “Excuse me?”

 

“I said, 'what was your relationship to Loki?'” she repeated with a slightly impatient tone to her voice.

 

The inventor looked around nervously and felt all eyes suddenly on him. He swallowed and straightened up slightly before he slowly replied: “I'm... not sure what you're asking here. You all should be more familiar with the slave system than me, right?” He sure as hell wasn't going to tell them anything about what he and Loki had shared, from sleepless nights over afternoons in the workshop to that one, tentative kiss. “I don't have any big stories to tell, unless you want to know about how I served him breakfast.”

 

Volstagg scoffed. “Yes, right. Surely, Loki kept someone with your pretty face around, right next to his own quarters and showered with gifts, to _serve him breakfast_.”

 

Tony recoiled and gripped his fork tighter at the heavy insinuation in the sentence. He felt the blood draining from his face, but fought to keep his voice levelled as he asked: “So what are you implying, then?” Was he allowed to look someone directly in the eye who was above his status? Loki had never cared about that, but then again, Loki hadn't exactly treated him in the way that seemed to be usual for Asgardian slaves.

 

The Aesir warrior crossed his arms in front of his chest and shrugged his shoulders. “Merely that I believe you served Loki – Norns rest his soul – something different than his meals.”

 

“ _Volstagg!_ ” Fandral hissed before Tony had a chance to respond.

 

The red-haired warrior threw his arms up defensively. “What? Would it be that unlike Loki to hold himself an argr slave boy?”

 

Tony stood abruptly, only just managing to catch the drink he had almost knocked over. He clenched his shaking hands to fists by his sides and had the mind to bow in Odin's and Frigga's direction as he announced: “I think I will be going to bed now. I hope you all enjoy the feast.”

 

He didn't look back as he climbed off the bench and hurried out of the hall, as fast as he could without breaking into a run. _God_ , these people were _disgusting_. He would at least have expected Thor to intervene when someone was slandering his brother like that – then again, what did _they_ know of Loki? Tony had known the prince for little over a month and he felt like Loki had told him more than his brother or his so-called friends.

 

Maybe it was because of his status. Tony was a slave, it didn't matter if he judged Loki. Nobody listened to a slave. He stood lower than the goddamn kitchen personnel.

 

But it hadn't been just that, had it? Tony had actually _listened_. He had wanted more, had asked about the things that no Aesir warrior would care about. For the first time, it occurred to him that it wasn't just that Loki was next door when Tony had needed him; Tony had been right there for Loki, too, when the mage needed anything ( _fuck you_ , _Volstagg, that was not what I meant_ ). When he wanted to rant over the stubborn ignorance of the Aesir or Thor's latest idiocy, or when he just felt like talking to someone who would listen in fascination when he told them about his magic instead of brushing him off with a remark about _women's craft._

 

He only got lost about twice on his way back, and never lost enough to be forced to talk to someone. The great hallways were eerily empty except for the silent guards, whose eyes followed his every movement. Everybody else seemed to be at the feast in the giant hall that he had just left.

 

“ _They are impossible,” Loki murmured, shaking his head as they looked after a pair of warriors, drunkenly leaning on each other as they stumbled through the courtyard. “No matter what happens, there is a feast. Coronation? Feast. Someone dies? A feast. A wedding? A feast, and don't forget the mead. Ragnarök could be on its way and they would get drunk in its honour before they do anything.”_

 

Again, he found himself in his chamber with no idea what to do next. He stripped out of the leather vest, draped it over the back of an armchair and, on second thought, changed into the dark red pyjamas.

 

“ _Red is a wonderful look on you, but I'll admit, I do love the green,” Loki stated with a smile as he looked down on Tony, who fiddled with the sleeve of the dark green tunic as he tried to suppress a blush._

 

He caught a look at the reactor and the skin around it. It hurt with every heartbeat now and he began to see the reason: dark purple bruises had formed around the reactor's rim and Tony quickly closed the buttons of the pyjama top so he wouldn't have to look at it anymore. Maybe he could get Frigga to take a look at it before he had to return to the market.

 

With a shudder, he looked towards the bed. This might be the very last night he spent on it. _Well, better catch a good night of sleep then, right?_ Yeah, because it was so damn likely that he'd be able to sleep now.

 

Still, he curled up under the blanket, his hands pressed against the reactor as if that would make it hurt any less. He had no fucking idea what was happening, although he figured that it had to do with the damn apple that Loki had made him eat.

 

Maybe, if he was lucky, that thing would kill him.

 

Immediately after thinking that, he bit his cheek. No matter what had happened, he had _never_ been suicidal. He wasn't about to become so after Loki. _If you died, would you want to see your loved ones perish in grief?_ Loki wouldn't want it. He'd been possessive, protective; he wouldn't want to see Tony harming himself.

 

_Except that Loki killed himself, so he can't really be considered a role model, can he._

 

A quiet knock on the door interrupted the spiralling of Tony's thoughts and he sat up on the bed, wondering who could possibly be out there. The only possibilities that came to his mind where Frigga, which was highly unlikely, or maybe Fandral. Possibly a squad of guards to drag him back to the market.

 

“Yeah?” he called out nervously. “Come in.” Guards wouldn't have knocked, right?

 

He was proven right when the door opened to reveal Fandral in the doorway, an actual small barrel under his arm and two jugs in one hand. “Hey,” he greeted carefully. “Do you... want to talk about it?”

 

Tony shot him a look that probably made the “Seriously? No” completely unnecessary.

 

Fandral nodded as if he hadn't expected anything else. Raising the hand with the two jugs, he asked: “Do you want to drink and forget about it?”

  
“Hell yeah.”

 

Alcohol was as good of a painkiller as anything else. They sat on the bed for what felt like hours while Tony discovered that, for one, he had been sober for almost a year now and, second, apparently really underestimated Asgardian mead. Also, he had apparently turned from the silly party drunk he had been before all of this started into an emotional wreck, because somewhere into his fourth jug, he found himself uncontrollably sobbing on Fandral's shoulder, craving someone who would take him and just hold him tightly and at the same time despising anyone who wasn't Loki.

 

He let Fandral do it because he was drunk enough to convince his brain that it didn't matter.

 

~*~

 

The next morning, he woke with nausea crawling in his stomach and his head pounding with both the hangover and the kind of headache you got when you cried for hours on end. The worst, though, was the burning pain in his chest.

 

With a groan, Tony curled in on himself and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, freezing when he heard a quiet snore. He blinked a few times, trying to ignore the too-bright light, and spotted Fandral next to him on the bed. The view made him even more nauseous. _Oh God._ They hadn't – nothing had happened, right? Tony didn't remember anything much except for having cried embarrassingly much, but they were both fully clothed and although Fandral was splayed out over half of the bed, laying on his back, he wasn't in any actual bodily contact to Tony.

 

Slowly, the inventor sat up and bit his lip to suppress a whimper at the flare of pain the movement caused. He stumbled into the bathroom, where he practically ripped open the top buttons of the pyjama top.

 

The sight that greeted him, together with the residual nausea of the hangover, made him collapse on his knees in front of the toilet as he heaved up what little he had eaten in the past few days. Again, tears were welling up in his eyes, and he squeezed them shut tightly while he retched.

 

He flinched when there was suddenly a hand on his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at Fandral. The blond was apparently hungover himself, even though it was apparently nowhere near as bad as Tony felt.

 

“What in Hel's name is _that_?” Fandral blurted out when he caught sight of Tony's chest.

 

The inventor struggled to get to his feet, trying to suppress the nausea churning in his stomach, and bent over the sink to rinse out his mouth several times before he replied hoarsely: “I have no fucking idea.” He turned towards the full-wall mirror again and carefully ran a finger through the bloody mess around the reactor. At a sudden spike of a pain, he stopped and tried to close his shaking fingers around the sharp edge he had felt. Gritting his teeth, he held his breath and pulled it out in one swift motion, crying out in pain. Incredulously, he stared at the tiny, bloody shard in his palm. He felt about ready to faint then and there. “Oh _God_ ,” he choked out, dropping the piece of shrapnel to the floor as he swayed dangerously on his feet. “Fuck. _Fuck_.”

 

Fandral's hands came up to steady him as he repeated: “What is that?”

 

Tony swallowed rapidly. “Shrapnel,” he managed to get out. “I got – I got metal shards in my chest. After an explosion. Hence this thing.” He pointed at the reactor, the glass plate slightly bloodied in some places, dimming the blue light. “And now, apparently, that fucking apple is rejecting them and – oh fuck, what if it tries to get the reactor out, too? I can't – that wouldn't – I don't have a damn breast bone and I'm missing a good third of my lungs, I'm pretty damn sure that even the apple can't repair that.” He was hyperventilating and it fucking hurt, but he couldn't bring himself to calm down. If already these tiny shards hurt like this, what would it feel like if his body actually tried to force the reactor out? Not even mentioning the unpleasant death by internal bleeding or whatever was going to follow.

 

“Anthony!” Fandral snapped, in a tone that suggested he wasn't saying his name for the first time. “Breathe!”

 

“ _Breathe, Anthony, come on. Deep breaths. For me? Just a few more.”_

 

Tony gasped for air, trying to count to four on each inhale and exhale. Fandral's hands were firmly clenched around his shoulders, not hard enough to hurt, but grounding.

 

“Okay,” he wheezed, “okay, I'm okay, I'm sorry. I'm just – that's _not_ how I want to die, really.”

 

“You won't,” Fandral immediately responded, but even in the state he was in, Tony noticed the difference between his _you won't_ and Loki's. Fandral's was a hastily spoken reassurance, with good intent, no doubt, but it lacked something. With Loki, these two words would have been an order and a promise at the same time. It was _different_ , and there was no way it would ever have the same effect.

 

Still, he forced himself to breathe in deeply, cringing at the pain in his chest. Alright. Breathing wasn't too difficult. He could do that without Loki's help.

 

“Come back to bed,” Fandral said quietly. “Lay down for a bit. I will fetch Eir or one of the healers.”

 

Tony nodded, letting the other man lead him back into the main room. He collapsed back onto the mattress, his knees weak and his stomach still churning unpleasantly. The pounding of his head was a fitting addition to the mixture. Weakly, he smiled up at the swordsman, murmuring an apology.

 

“Don't worry,” Fandral replied with a small smile. He did an admirable job at covering up that he had no idea how to deal with the situation; Tony would almost have been fooled. “I will just –“ He was interrupted by the door opening and turned around while the inventor pushed himself upright on his elbows with a wince. “Y-your highness?” Fandral stammered and Tony flinched. Did he have to leave _now_?

 

“Fandral,” Frigga's voice greeted, just a small hint of well-controlled surprise in her voice. “What brings you here?”

 

“Um,” the swordsman uttered eloquently. “Well. That's...”

 

“You're making it awkward, idiot,” Tony groaned from behind him. Frigga sidestepped Fandral and froze for a second when she caught sight of the inventor's chest. Seemed to be a common reaction by now. “G'morning,” he greeted with a weak smile and, with a glance towards Fandral, added: “Your majesty.”

 

She actually _rolled her eyes_ at him as she stepped up to his bedside and sat down on the edge of the mattress. More in her mother-voice than the Queen of Asgard-tone, she demanded: “What happened?”

 

Tony grimaced and sank back into the pillow behind him. “Where do you want me to start?” he asked back and ran his fingers through the blood on his chest, wincing as he felt for the next shard.

 

“At the beginning, of course,” she responded, taking a hold of his wrist and pulling it away from the reactor's rim. “I can heal that,” she offered, frowning down at the cuts, oozing blood, that were starting to form where the shards were trying to break the surface.

 

Tony flinched and shook his head, immediately regretting the movement as it made his headache even worse. “Please don't,” he responded hurriedly. At her questioning glance, he elaborated: “They'd just open up again. I'd rather just let it happen at once than keep healing it and letting it open again.” He swallowed, his throat feeling dry, and began to recount what had happened since the coronation. He tried to keep it as neutral as possible, giving Loki as little fault in the events as he was able to, although he couldn't quite hide the bitterness in his tone as he told her about the apple and what it was causing now.

 

Although he had done his best to keep it short, his throat hurt by the time he was finished and he took a moment to just breathe – it didn't do his composure any good to talk about Loki to this extent, he felt like he might break out in tears again if he mentioned his name another time. After a while, he carefully cleared his throat, avoiding Frigga's eyes as he forced himself to say: “I'd like to... to ask for something. If that's – if that's okay.”

 

God, he was going to be lost on the slave market. He'd been belligerent and defiant before, but now? Loki had made him _soft_ , had spoiled him and that was how he had managed to keep Tony from fighting – he hadn't had to. There had been nothing he had had to fight for. And now? He was asking whether it was acceptable to ask for something.

 

Maybe, his next owner would manage to keep him.

 

“Of course it is,” Frigga replied, a thumb stroking over the back of his hand that she hadn't let go of, not caring about the blood that it probably got on her. “Ask, dear.”

 

Tony swallowed again, staring out of the window while his free hand fiddled with the bed sheets. “I'd, um. I wanted to ask, because... because of this now.” He gestured towards the reactor vaguely. “If it would be alright, I'd like to... to stay until it's, well, done with whatever it does there before I go... back to the market. I don't think damaged slaves sell very good and the traders usually cull those who're unlikely to bring profit. 's not the way I'd want to go.” He managed a forced little smile, but still didn't dare to look up at Frigga.

 

The movement on his hand had stilled somewhere during his sentence. Quietly, he heard Frigga say: “Speaking of the market. That is what I came here to talk to you about.”

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I see you in a suit of armour.' Tony blinked up at the queen in surprise, the words echoing in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the talk with Frigga, it just wouldn't work the way I wanted it to. I hope she doesn't feel too ooc.
> 
> On another note, I don't think I've said it before, I'm so very grateful for all your lovely comments and kudos, they keep me going when I struggle with terrible chapters like this one.

 

Tony tensed, awaiting the queen's next words.

 

“Usually, mortals are not permitted access to Asgard,” she explained calmly. “Before, your status as slave overrode that law because no matter what you were, first and foremost, you were property.” The words were blunt, she did nothing to soften their meaning unnecessarily. “Now, without an owner, you are either an unclaimed slave or a Midgardian without permission to stay here, neither of which bodes all that well for you.”

 

The inventor cringed and opened his mouth to reply, but Frigga cut him off before he could start: “ _However_ , you may of course stay here until you are well enough to travel, and after that –“

 

“I'd buy him,” Fandral blurted out. He cleared his throat when the queen's gaze settled on him and quickly added: “I apologise for interrupting you. But I just wanted to – I would not want him to return the market.”

 

Tony stared at him with wide eyes, surprised by the offer that had come quite literally out of nowhere.

 

There was a hint of a smile on Frigga's lips as she responded: “That is touching, Fandral, it really is, and I am sure that Anthony would appreciate the gesture, but if you would have the decency to let me finish my sentence?” The swordsman ducked his head and muttered another apology. “ _However_ ,” she resumed, “we have several possibilities as to where to go from here. I can say for certain that Loki would not have allowed me to return you to the slave market, and frankly, that is not what I would have chosen to do either.”

 

He couldn't help the small exhale of relief at her words.

 

“Which leaves us with three options,” she concluded. “Either, you become a part of the palace's staff or we transfer your ownership to Fandral.” There was just the faintest hint of distaste in her voice and Tony remembered the day they had first met, when she had shown clear dismay at the realisation that her son had brought a slave home. Slavery didn't seem uncommon in Asgard, but apparently, the queen had other views on such things. “Those would be the easy methods. I would send you back home if I could, but with the Bifröst destroyed as it is, that possibility is ruled out for now.”

 

Tony had to swallow before he could answer. When he did, it was quiet and hesitant. “I would have stayed,” he murmured.

 

“Pardon?”

 

He cleared his throat. “If Loki would have asked me,” he elaborated. “I would have stayed here. I mean, I'd maybe have liked to... you know, visit, to see what's going on, but... I would have stayed with him.” He wasn't sure what the admission was for, but the words had found their way past his lips and hung in the room now.

 

Frigga squeezed his hand carefully and replied softly: “I believe you.” And that was it. What else was there to say to that? Her voice stayed gentle as she continued: “There is something else I talked about to Loki. A third option.”

 

Tony sat up slightly, trying to ignore the sting of pain in his chest. “Loki?” he repeated with a hint of surprise.

 

She nodded, keeping every bit of emotion from her features as she elaborated: “Yes, he came to talk about it a while ago. It was speculation and it is all still very vague, but I believe that it is what he would have wanted.” The inventor nodded slowly, torn between apprehension and anticipation. “He asked me about whether it would be possible to grant you the citizenship of Asgard.” Tony listened carefully, not daring to interrupt her – he wouldn't have known what to say anyway. “Since, through Idunn's apple, you are technically becoming Aesir now as well, I would have the authority to do so.”

 

Tony swallowed drily, cleared his throat and asked: “And you... you would do that?”

 

Frigga smiled with a hint of bitterness. “It is the closest to a last wish that I have from my son. That's the least I can do.” Tony flinched and averted his eyes as he nodded. That was as good of a motivation as any other. Since he had never been good at comforting people, he didn't even try to come up with something to say. Instead, he carefully squeezed the queen's hand, wondering in the back of his mind how many people got to see her like this.

 

For a while, nobody said anything. Tony clenched his free hand around the bed sheets to suppress the urge to reach up and claw at his chest or something else to alleviate some of the still burning pain around the reactor. He stared out of the window, feeling Frigga's eyes on him. Silently, he wondered what was going on in her head. Was she looking at him and wondering what her son had seen in this mortal? What had made Loki form his plans around the coronation just to break his deal with Freyja?

 

No, she didn't know about that, did she? God, no, she didn't. Tony suddenly felt nauseous. If it hadn't been for that night out on the balcony, all of this might never have happened.

 

He took a shaky breath, guilty conscience weighing on his shoulders with a sudden, unexpected heaviness. Briefly, he glanced up at Frigga, then his gaze flickered over to Fandral. He had to tell her; he owed it to her. She had lost her son, the least he could do was telling her the reason, even if that meant that she would pull her offer back.

 

“Fandral,” he began carefully, “would you mind to... give us a moment? If that's okay. I need to...”

 

He didn't finish, but the Aesir seemed to understand nonetheless. He bowed curtly towards Frigga as he replied: “Yes, of course.” Then, he hurried out of the room, apparently relieved to be able to flee the tense atmosphere in the room.

 

Frigga looked down at Tony with an unreadable expression as soon as the door had closed behind the swordsman. He met her eyes, looked away and then forced himself to return her gaze again as he searched for the right words. Unsuccessfully. The queen didn't push, apparently not minding that he needed his time. Her understanding attitude made it even harder.

 

Eventually, Tony made himself look up for long enough to force out: “It's my fault.” He inhaled, feeling like there was no breath left in his lungs. Frigga's hand twitched around his. “What Loki – what he – what happened. I made him – the idea. I gave him the idea.” Now that he had started, the words stumbled over one another in their hurry to be spoken. He propped himself up on one elbow and searched Frigga's eyes pleadingly. She returned his gaze with an expression mixed of surprise and sorrow. “I never wanted to... to turn out like this, I swear, I didn't _know_...” His voice broke, but still, he plunged on: “I never wanted this to happen, I thought it'd be harmless, and then he –”

 

“Shh,” Frigga made, raising a hand. “Shh, stop. I know. Stop it.”

 

“No, I– what?” Tony cut himself off, blinking rapidly so he wouldn't break out in tears _again_. He'd had enough of that yesterday.

 

“I know,” she repeated. “And I knew as soon as it happened. Do not blame yourself, Anthony.”

 

The inventor swallowed a few times, hoping that it would do something about the raw feeling in his throat. “I'm afraid I don't follow,” he said slowly, his voice still slightly unsteady.

 

She smiled sorrowfully as she quietly replied: “No, you wouldn't, would you.” For a few moments, she was quiet, and then, with the same pained smile, she explained slowly: “I have... a gift. Or a curse. Both, really. It used to be a gift once, but... apparently, it was too good to be true.” The smile turned bitter. “I see... things. Present, past, future – I can't always tell them from one another, and my visions are unreliable because sometimes, one little change makes all the differences and a particular thread never gets weaved into the whole.”

 

“ _Tapestry,” Loki said, with a vague gesture like he wasn't quite sure how to indicate that. “She weaves the most beautiful patterns. Remind me to show them to you sometimes. There are whole stories, there is history in what she makes. It is most fascinating.”_

 

“You knew what would happen?” Tony asked carefully, a hint of incredulity in his voice that he didn't quite manage to conceal. “You knew that he would – you knew what was going to happen and you didn't _do_ anything?” He sounded more accusing than he had intended it to, but could he really be blamed for that?! She was Loki's _mother_ , for god's sake, weren't parents there for exactly that sort of thing?

 

“I did not,” she responded, and the cold, steely tone in her voice reminded Tony that this was not only Loki's mother, but also the queen of the most powerful kingdom in all the Nine Realms.

 

Still, he couldn't keep himself from demanding: “But he's your _son_ , why the fuck would you just sit by and watch instead of doing something to –“

 

“I _cannot_ ,” Frigga cut him off, a sudden note of despair to her voice. She brushed a blond curl away from her forehead in a gesture that Tony had seen on Loki countless times. “You must understand, Anthony – what I see in those vision, I cannot comprehend. I see snippets and pictures, and they might be happening right now, but they might also lay decades back in the past or centuries from now and there is no way for me to tell.”

 

She took a deep breath and continued: “I see things that make no sense to me, and I cannot share them. I cannot even ask anyone for advice when it comes to them, for if I speak of them, I shall lose my mind. Did you listen to me? I told you, it is a _curse_. I know that this sounds like the words of a coward, but I would rather be ignorant and surprised than see pictures of _my son's death_ that only make sense for me when it is too late to change anything.”

 

By now, she sounded furious; at herself, at whoever had gifted her with these visions or whomever else, Tony couldn't quite tell. “If they were coherent, at least, but they are not! I see Loki falling, and then I see you in a suit of armour and I know that these images cannot belong together. So what should I assume? I see one image of you and your armour, but I know that it is a thread of a future that never came to life, so why should I not believe that Loki's death was just as surreal?”

 

 _I see you in a suit of armour_. Tony blinked up at her in surprise, the words echoing in his head. Tentatively he asked: “How do... how could you tell that it was another thread?”

 

Frigga gave him a long, bemused look. “You lacked your scar,” she eventually explained and Tony's hand impulsively came up to his cheek to trace the thin, white line that ran from his cheekbone down to his upper lip. Courtesy of his last owner.

 

If he didn't have the scar, that either meant he hadn't been passed on to that particular slave holder or, more logical considering that she had spoken of a suit of armour, he hadn't been sold in the first place. And he hadn't died in that cave either, he had apparently managed to get out before being sold by Obie. In some other version of his life.

 

After noticing that he had apparently been silent for a while, Tony murmured a quiet “I see” before he stared out of the window again, wondering if another version of Tony Stark was currently down on Midgard – _Earth_ – and living happily ever after with Pepper.

 

Then, he winced as he realised how harsh his words had been; accusing Frigga of willingly letting her son walk into his own peril, after an event like that, was a whole new level of tactless. Sure, he hadn't known, but how did the saying go? Ignorance is no excuse in law? He muttered a quiet apology, fully aware that it wasn't much (probably not enough), but he couldn't actually bring himself to do more. In the haze of the ever-present pain in his chest, the incredulity and shock still clouding his mind and the sheer pressure of the knowledge that this was the mightiest woman in all of Asgard and one word could screw everything up, he was surprised that he got any sort of proper sentence out at all.

 

Luckily, Frigga seemed to understand. She had to know what he felt like, even if a mother may experience grief in another way than... than... what was he, actually? What had he been? He was honestly not sure about whether he could put a name to what Loki had been to him. It was disconcerting; he was used to being able to label things and put them in neat little boxes. It made his life a _lot_ easier. But Loki, of course, Loki of all people had to be the one to turn it all upside down. And then he left, vanished, just like that.

 

God, with the leftover pain of the hangover throbbing behind his temples, the _agony_ that the shards in his chest caused and the unbidden wave of emotions, Tony could feel the urge to cry welling up again.

 

That was probably what caused him to miss Frigga's response to his murmured apology. Feeling slightly guilty, he glanced back up at the queen, who just leaned forward and brushed some sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. He wondered how often she had done that for Thor and Loki when they had been younger.

 

“I will make sure that you get something to help the pain,” she promised quietly. “Then try to sleep, that will make it easier to bear, I am sure.”

 

He nodded against her hand, closing his eyes when he suddenly felt fatigue washing over him. _Maybe I'll be getting bipolar now, too_ , he thought wryly, but couldn't bring himself to even fake a smile at the thought. He wanted to sleep until this was all over and then a little more; he remembered the state of silent, painless indifference that he had experienced at some point between Freyr stabbing him and Loki forcing slices of the apple between his lips, brutally pulling him back into consciousness.

 

Not being... _alive_ for a bit had been... peaceful. Tony missed it more than was probably healthy.

 

Apparently, Frigga had already said her goodbyes because the next time he blinked his eyes open, the room was empty. Tiredly, Tony turned to his side – it wasn't comfortable, no, far from that with the reactor weighing down on his ribs in the position, but like this, he could curl around one of his pillows, draw the blanket up over his shoulders and pretend that he wasn't shaking or letting the fabric absorb his tears.

 

In the beginning, he'd tried to stop them. Grown men didn't cry – hell, _Tony Stark_ didn't cry. But then again, he had stopped being Tony Stark months ago. He was Anthony, Loki's Anthony, and the pretence and public face that had made up Tony Stark had crumbled somewhere back between his third and fourth owner. For a long while, he hadn't known what to be, had struggled to hold on to the Stark-persona while he cut his captors up with the jagged edges of his broken mind; but when Loki had come along, there had suddenly been something new, something _happening_ that was so very different from what he'd had expected, and out of the broken fractals that had made up Tony for so long, the god had managed to make something new.

 

Whatever _new_ was, whatever _Anthony_ actually was, he was allowed to fucking cry a little, because there was no-one here to see it and he had every damn reason to. Wrapping his arms around the pillow, he buried his face in it and inhaled shakily, trying to recall whether the scent of Loki's bed had been the same. They had to be washed with the same detergent, but the note of... of _Loki_ was missing. He'd never taken notice of that before, but now, it bothered him.

 

After god knew how long, he heard the door clicking open and froze, trying to bite back the choked sobs that nobody else needed to hear, dammit. He had his back turned towards the door and therefore could only hear the person entering, approaching his bed with light footsteps. As much as Tony hated having someone he couldn't pinpoint the identity of in his back, he couldn't convince himself to turn around and let them see him either.

 

“Are you awake?” a quiet, female voice asked. It sounded foreign, but friendly enough; probably one of the healers Frigga had mentioned earlier. Tony made an affirming sound and the voice seemed to take that as a cue to launch into an explanation about how to ingest the potion (she did actually call it a _potion_ ) she had brought with her. She briefly asked about whether he had understood everything and then she was gone as fast as she had come. Just another job, after all.

 

He was half-tempted to just bury his face in the pillow again, but the agony in his chest was a more than suitable argument against that. With a stifled groan, he turned around, gritting his teeth because the movement seemed to set his chest on fire relentlessly. Every shift of muscles under his skin seemed to incite a spark of pain from the still moving shards and he wanted to scream, considered doing it since no-one was here anyway, but ended up just grabbing the glass on his bedside table a little too tightly before he downed its contents and slumped back into the pillows. Beside it was a small bottle with more of the medicine ( _potion_ , ha), but apparently, he wasn't supposed to drink more than this today, so he would have to wait for it to kick in.

 

Just minutes later, he began to notice it taking the edge off the pain. It didn't fully vanish, but it did clear the haze in his mind a little. Helped him to think more clearly again.

 

Except that that wasn't what he had wanted, not at all, because he couldn't use _thinking_ right now. He didn't need to think about the fact that all of this might never have happened if he hadn't given Loki that idea back then on the balcony, and he also didn't need to think about how fucking lonely this wing was without the knowledge that Loki was just next door or at least in reach, sort of, and he really didn't need that tentative kiss to return to his mind over and over again, thank you very much.

 

God, Tony hated how every thought seemed to wind up dealing with Loki. Not even a day had passed and he _missed_ him, missed the cocky trickster who would probably have hauled some tome into the room by now and filled Tony's loneliness with magic and new worlds.

 

Apparently, the potion also made Tony a little light-headed, gave him an easier attitude, because the next thing he knew, he had his slightly blood-stained pyjama shirt back on and buttoned it up while he left his room to head for Loki's chambers.

 

The smell was the first thing that assaulted him when he entered, a mixture of old books and leather and something that he couldn't quite label, that was just Loki and nothing else. Without hesitating much, Tony headed towards the bed while the door clicked shut behind him. He all but collapsed on the mattress, wrinkling the pristine sheets and taking large, almost gasping lungfuls of the familiar scent, as deep as the dulled pain would allow him to.

 

His mind drifted to the night he had spent here, Loki curled around him protectively with a murmur of soft reassurances that everything was going to be alright. Tony had expected to find some sort of comfort here, surrounded by an environment that was so much like the god, but there was not a bit of consolation here. Instead, he felt himself spiralling down into accusations at himself again, despite Frigga's words from before. He ended up noisily sobbing into Loki's pillows and could already feel his headache, even though it was dulled from the potion, take on a duller, throbbing note.

 

“Anthony.”

 

Tony froze, then sniffed and straightened up abruptly, scrubbing a hand over his cheeks as he stared towards the side of the bed disbelievingly.

 

There, in a dark green tunic and comfortable black leather pants, like he would wear on a lazy day without any court meetings and the like, sat Loki, a soft smile on his features and his eyes warm on him.

 

“Wha– _how_?” the inventor choked out, moving towards Loki before he had even finished that short question. “I thought you were – I saw you falling, how are you – oh _god_ , what the hell is happening?”

 

“Shht,” Loki made quietly, placing a finger on Tony's lips before he climbed up onto the mattress and drew Tony into his arms tightly. “It's alright, I'm here now. Be calm.”

 

Tony was everything but calm, clenching his fingers around the material of Loki's tunic tightly as he buried his face in the crook of the prince's neck. He was shaking and struggling to get any words out; in the end, he just babbled a quiet stream of “oh thank god, you're here, you're back, you're okay, I thought you were dead, you fucking scared me” while Loki muttered reassurances and apologies and didn't comment on Tony's tears soaking his clothing.

 

With a soft murmur of “come here”, the mage moved them down onto the bed and drew the blankets up over them. Loki's scent was almost overwhelming and Tony pressed himself as close as humanly possible, his arms wrapped around the prince and determined to never let go again.

 

He wasn't sure how long it took until he was able to get a hold of himself. He sniffled, revelling in the sensation of Loki's hands on his back, and forced himself to move away slightly so he could look at Loki's face.

 

“I missed you, you prick,” he murmured, his voice still slightly choked up.

 

Loki's lips quirked up in amusement. “I was hardly gone for more than a day.”

 

“Well, I thought you were _dead_!” Tony snapped more harshly than he had intended.

 

The prince didn't flinch, just drew him closer again and ran a hand through his hair. “I apologise. I didn't mean to cause you grief, but it was necessary. I needed everyone to be fooled.”

 

“What for?” the inventor asked quietly.

 

Loki just stroked a hand through his hair and replied: “I will explain everything tomorrow. Sleep now, my dear.”

 

“Stay here,” Tony muttered, and he could feel Loki nodding. “And by the way, I'm still pissed because of that apple. You have _no_ idea.”

 

“Oh, I think I do,” the prince murmured quietly. “Sleep.”

 

And in Loki's embrace, it wasn't hard to do exactly that.

 

Waking up was the more unpleasant process. The pain in Tony's chest was back in full force, the throbbing headache lingered just behind his temples and the worst was the lack of another person's breathing next to him. Tony opened his eyes, blinking against the light from outside and searching for Loki before he got aware of the pillow that he had pressed against his chest, his arms wound tightly around it.

 

It smelled like Loki. The whole room did. Like Loki and his books and his ridiculous leather getups, just without an actual Loki in it. Because Loki had plunged himself down into the endless Void beneath Asgard the day before.

 

Right.

 

With a bitter laugh, Tony straightened up. The blanket fell from his shoulders so he could see the dark patch of blood on his clothing and he unbuttoned it with fingers that were _not_ shaking, thank you very much, to find another of the shrapnel shards sticking out of his skin. At least the hours of sleep had brought him through the process of repelling some of them, as he spotted at least two glistening splinters on the mattress next to him.

 

He was sure he would have cried some more if he had the energy left. As it was, he just reached up for his chest to pull the one protruding shard out, biting his lip to stifle the yell of pain. It caused a new gush of blood, trickling down around the reactor's rim, but it wasn't like it could get any messier.

 

 _God_ , he needed a bath. And some more of the painkilling potion because despite the fact that the wound on his chest was already closing unnaturally fast, it all still hurt like fuck. So: more potion.

 

More hallucination-inducing goddamn potion. Alright. He could handle that. He would know that it wasn't real; this time, he would. And it didn't matter that the realisation that Loki _wasn't_ back still filled him with bitter resignation. Not at all.

 

Despite having slept for hours, Tony felt tired. He sat on the edge of the bed and slumped over, burying his face in his hands with a sigh. He didn't know how it had happened over the course of just a few days, but when he'd had to watch Loki vanishing in the blackest darkness he'd ever seen, it had felt like the prince had taken all Tony's will to fight with him, to some place inaccessible for anyone else.

 

He lacked the determination to try and get it back. Go figure.

 

With careful, quiet steps, he left Loki's rooms with a last, wistful glance. He looked down the hallway before he let the door fall shut behind himself; it wasn't usual that people came here, he'd only ever seen Fandral, Frigga and the occasional servant. Still, he didn't need to know how people would react to seeing him leaving the prince's chambers.

 

The wing was eerily silent and Tony felt like a criminal while he sneaked back to his room. Which he was, sort of. Inspiring a conspiracy and all that. Ha, maybe he should turn himself in – except he'd already tried that and had gotten a long, confusing talk about gifts and visions and impossible armour from Frigga. Not a dungeon. They had those in Asgard, right? He was pretty sure they did. After all, the whole setting wouldn't be the same without dark, smelly dungeons beneath the beautiful palace.

 

With a huff, he opened the door to his own room and almost stumbled in because he tried to lean on it with all his weight, like he usually has to with these damn, too-heavy Asgardian doors, but now, the initial push was enough to make it swing open. It left Tony disorientated and stumbling for a moment, but he caught himself soon enough and regarded the door with an air of disconcerted surprise. Then he remembered – yeah, apple, right. He'd figured out long ago that an Aesir's strength was far superior to a human's, and apparently, his body was catching up with that slowly. Another proof that he was changing; as if he still needed one.

 

Almost absently, he mixed the potion that was still on his bedside table with the appropriate amount of water, then downed the liquid and grimaced at the bitter taste, then even more at the sticky sweetness it left behind. Unbelievable that he had been out of it enough yesterday not to notice that.

 

Tony set the glass down and wandered towards the bathroom, wanting nothing more than to get rid of the too-warm, sticky mess of blood that ruined the front of his pyjamas. He stripped them off while walking and a few minutes later, he sat on one of the steps in the tub, water rising around him. He didn't quite let his chest be submerged yet, he could imagine how painful the water on his wounds would be.

 

Instead, he scrubbed the blood off his hands and away under his fingernails. When he looked up, Loki sat on the other side of the tub, the warmth of the water causing a flush high on his cheeks and down his chest. The rest of his body was hidden by the water.

 

“Now, that's just not fair,” Tony almost-whined. “Come on.”

 

The god cocked his head, damp black curls falling into his face. “Not fair?” he repeated.

 

Tony rolled his eyes and made a gesture in Loki's general direction. “This. You here.” He sighed, slowly sinking deeper into the hot water. “You're not real,” he told him.

 

For a moment, it looked like Loki was going to protest, but then he broke eye contact with something that looked akin to a bad conscience. Uncomfortably, he admitted: “I am afraid so.”

 

The inventor sighed and nodded. Carefully, he slid deeper into the bath, hissing when hot water began to cover his wounds and caused a stinging burn in them. _I've had worse_ , he reminded himself and squeezed his eyes shut while he cleaned the area as gently as possible.

 

When there was no more blood crusting around the rim, or at least none that he could take care of right now, he briefly submerged in the water and rubbed his hands over his face while he was under, hoping to get rid of the unpleasant feeling that too many tears had left. When he came back up, only mildly sputtering, and wiped the water out of his eyes, he met Loki's scrutinising gaze.

 

“You're still here,” Tony stated, only mildly surprised. “Is it normal for this stuff to cause hallucinations?” It was getting harder to remind himself that the god wasn't real, because he sat just across from him, he could reach out any moment and...

 

Tony shook his head while Loki answered: “I wouldn't know. After all, you don't.” That made sense. If Loki was only a fragment of his desperate imagination, then he couldn't possibly know more than Tony did.

 

For a long while, they didn't talk, just stared at each other. Although he might have looked calm, maybe even expressionless on the outside, Tony was torn; he hated this, he hated it with a passion that made his fists clench and his nails dig into his palms. He wanted to jump over and hit Loki, see if that would make him vanish (because he wasn't real, right? Tony was beginning to be uncertain about it, although it was the only possibility that made sense) or enjoy that little bit that he still had, the only bit of Loki that he was ever going to see again, no matter how painful it was.

 

He settled for neither. After a while, he climbed out and got dressed with movements that were nearly mechanical. In front of his wardrobe, he hesitated briefly; on the red tunics, blood would be much less visible. They were the most obvious choice.

 

Still, he took the one green tunic that he still had left. Just to make a point. Because no matter if Loki was branded a traitor now, he was the one who had saved Tony's life when he had thought that it couldn't possibly get worse, and he was going to stand by that. Even though he had never been able to say it to Loki himself, he was Loki's and the time when he had hated that had long since passed.

 

The hallucination hovered in the background, mysteriously dried and dressed. There was not a word from it and Tony didn't address it. Maybe it would go away if he kept that up; and if it didn't, well, it was sort of weirdly comforting to have Loki around, even if he wasn't real.

 

 _Pathetic_ , he spat at himself, but that didn't make him change his opinion on the matter.

 

Now, he had the choice of either crawling back into bed and vegetate away in misery, or he could force himself to do something. Although he was so, so very tempted to decide on the former, he knew that if he let apathy claim him now, he wasn't going to be able to come back on his own. He wasn't quite dead yet and he wasn't going to let this drag him down when nothing else had managed that so far.

 

“I can do this without you if I have to,” he told Loki with a stubborn glare. “I managed before.”

 

Loki nodded with a smile. “I know you did,” he replied, and somehow, that was much worse than if he had scoffed and told Tony that it was impossible.

 

Angrily, the inventor blinked away the tears that threatened to well up again. Before he could decide otherwise, he headed for the door and began to walk, putting enough confidence in his stride to make it look like he belonged here and knew exactly what he was doing. That was the most effective way to flee a place: look like you were not fleeing.

 

Minutes later, he pushed open the doors to their – _his_ – workshop. _I see you in a suit of armour_. Plans that he had thought long forgotten came up to the forefront of his mind again and for the first time in days, he felt himself tentatively grinning. If his other self had managed this, then he would damn well be able to.

 

Tony Stark and Anthony might not be the same person, but neither of them was going to sit down and accept what life threw at them.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you cope in a world that is not yours, with barely anyone but your own mind for company?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!  
> I am aware and sorry that my updating schedule is terrible right now, so I want to thank you all so much for bearing with me, it really means a lot! I promise to try my best!

 

The doors fell shut behind him and Tony took a deep breath as he surveyed the workshop. It felt like years since he'd last been in here – his gaze was caught by the table that they had been standing before when he had kissed Loki. Partly because of the memories, the brief flash of an image in his mind, but more so because of the pale blue glow that emanated from the sphere hovering just a foot over the surface of the table.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Tony breathed, standing frozen in place.

 

Hallucination-Loki tutted behind him. “Now, is that how you say thank you?”

 

“You're not real, shut up,” the inventor responded, waving a hand dismissively. Then, a thought occurred to him and he approached the table warily. “Wait, is _this_ thing real? And I'm not asking you, because how the hell am I supposed to know whether you're telling the truth?”

 

The hallucination seemed scarily realistic, even when Tony knew that Loki wasn't here. Couldn't possibly be. But it was pretty much perfect, he had to admit that. There were quiet footsteps when he – no, _it –_ approached him and the sound ceased when it stood next to Tony. The only noise in the room were the inventor's slightly unsteady breaths.

 

And if the illusion of a person could be produced by his subconscious this accurately, then why wouldn't it be able to present him with the image of that small clump of badassium?

 

Then again, what choice did he have but believe in this? His body was changing, sure, and he was aware that Aesir were stronger and more durable than humans, but he really didn't need to try out whether they could die by palladium poisoning or not. And if he ended up waking with a useless chunk of metal in his hands, well, nobody could say he hadn't tried.

 

With a small sigh, he collapsed into the armchair that Loki had just sort of conjured during one of their long nights when they had worked on the new element for the reactor. He'd never removed it afterwards and it had just become a part of the furniture – there was a small scorch mark on one armrest and a discarded book sat on the floor next to it. The hallucination leaned against a table, watching him silently.

 

Tony tore his eyes away from it to stare at the hovering sphere again. He might have cried had he seen this a day earlier, but now he just let the memories of their afternoons and nights in the workshop wash over him, the pain of it numbed by the dull headache that the crying fits of the previous days had left him with. He linked his fingers in his lap, feeling strangely detached from it all. Like he had had his share of grief and it left him burned out and empty.

 

With a shuddering breath, he forced himself to get up. He wasn't going to sit here and let the poison crawl into his veins again; that was not how he was going to die. That was not what Loki had saved him for. He glanced towards the sphere one last time ( _“It feels_ beautiful _,”_ Loki's voice echoed through his head, still vivid in his memory from that day when the prince had first managed to create the energy source), then turned away to begin with the fabrication of the case that he would need.

 

Once during the process, he had to stop to pull another bloodied shard out of his chest, wincing in agony and biting his tongue to hold back any sort of pained noise. The potion had dulled the pain, but nothing more; it was still there and would be until the apple had disposed of the shards.

 

 _Let's just hope that it doesn't try to get rid of the reactor, too,_ Tony thought wryly. _I doubt that even that thing can regenerate my lungs and breast bone. That'd be a pretty pathetic way to go, after all I've survived so far. I think I deserve something a little more dramatic._

 

The most uncomfortable part came when he hoisted himself up onto one of the lab tables, having finished the reactor and turning it over in his hands. The metal of the casing was slowly warming up with the low heat of the energy source inside and the familiar blue glow took Tony's breath away for a moment. He clenched it tightly in his hands for a moment, mindful of the new strength that he wasn't yet accustomed to, and tried not to pay attention to hallucination-Loki sitting down on the table next to him. A black strand of black hair had come away from his neat hairdo, falling over his forehead in a stark contrast to the pale skin; he was silent, much more so than it had ever been usual for him when they had been here.

 

“Why you?” the inventor asked, just for a moment ignoring the fact that this was his own mind sitting next to him.

 

“Excuse me?” the hallucination said, head cocked to the side and another curl falling over his ear. Tony had to stifle the urge to brush it away because he knew that there would be nothing for him to touch.

 

“You know exactly what I mean,” he responded without any real bite to it. “Of all the things in my subconscious that could have been projected, it's gotta be you. Why you? Why can't I have, I don't know, a second Fandral or Frigga or, for heaven's sake, some random alien for all I know?”

 

“Hallucinations do not work like that,” Loki chided.

 

With a huff, Tony retorted: “Yeah, but I'm pretty sure that they don't work like _this_ either. You shouldn't be talking to me like this, right? Maybe I've just gone insane. Cracked up months ago and this was the final straw and now I'm curled up on some slave trader spaceship and hallucinate my friends.” He stumbled slightly over the last word, but didn't let it derail him.

 

“That's not right,” the prince protested.

 

“Because you'd know,” Tony scoffed.

 

The not-Loki crossed his arms nearly petulantly. “I would, actually,” he replied sullenly. “I am one of them, after all.”

 

“Which is why you can't be trusted,” the inventor told him. “You could be saying anything.”

 

“You think I would lie to you?” the hallucination asked, a palm on its chest.

 

Tony drily cocked an eyebrow at it. “Excuse me, you're pretending to – to _be_ here. That's your first lie and I bet it doesn't get better from there on.” Not-Loki looked like he was going to protest, but the engineer raised a hand to cut him off. “No, stop it. I may be high on your weird-ass Asgardian medicine, but I'm not far gone enough to try beating myself in an argument. That's virtually impossible. You're not helping, _basta_.” Indignantly, the hallucination huffed and pouted, preparing to reply something, but Tony cut every attempt at speech off with a harsh laugh. “Look, you're even getting out of character. Just stop trying. Now if you'd pardon me, I have a heart to replace.”

 

With a huff, he twisted the reactor in his chest and began to pull it out, then stopped halfway through, staring at the palladium-powered reactor in one of his hands and the new one in his other. Technically, it should be _possible_ to exchange it on his own, there were just two cables he had to re-connect. Awfully short ones, but hey.

 

God, he needed to upgrade that mechanism.

 

Ironically, it wasn't like he actually needed the reactor anymore. The apple was forcing all the shrapnel out of his chest, but so far, it didn't look like it was going to do something about the metal casing of the reactor itself, _thank god_. But he wasn't going to walk around with a reactor that poisoned him, and absolutely not completely without one – a hole in his chest of that size was just all kinds of unpleasant and impractical. So even if it didn't exactly serve a purpose anymore, except from being a glorified night light, he wouldn't relinquish it.

 

With a deep breath, he pulled the reactor out completely, unplugged it and held the wires between the fingers of one hand while he set the palladium-powered reactor down and made a grab for the new one. It would be a lot more complicated to get it in without anyone else here to help him, but he'd manage somehow. He would have to; as grateful as he felt towards them, he wasn't going to let Fandral or Frigga anywhere near his heart.

 

He carefully shoved the first wire into its place, drawing a gust of air in through his teeth as it connected and he immediately felt the strange coconut taste of it in the back of his throat. It was definitely more pleasant than the bitter palladium, so he hurried to connect the second bit as well. Apparently, he was going a little too fast, because he failed it at the first attempt and dropped the wire. With a startled yelp, he scrabbled for it (in his own chest cavity, and _damn_ that felt weird), his fingers twitching with the unexpected surge of electricity, trembling and twitching and making it very nearly impossible to grasp the thin copper wire between two fingers.

 

Tony exhaled a relieved breath through his teeth when he lifted it away from the metal casing of the reactor; holding on to it gingerly, he waited until the slight tremble of his hands subsided. He couldn't help but notice that it hadn't been half as bad as he had expected.

 

_Alright,_ he thought while he plugged it into place,  _that's going on the list. Enhanced strength, no more shrapnel, higher pain threshold, and, well. Immortality. Except for that last bit, it isn't all that bad._

 

Carefully, he let the reactor click into place and then looked back up at where Loki – no, the hallucination, _it_ – was standing. For the first time, he allowed his thoughts to wander, imagined Loki in the workshop, in the casual garments he usually wore when they were together, mending the elements together. Alone.

 

What for, though? Why had he done it at that point? Had he _known_ that he was going to die? Planned it?

 

With a weary sigh, Tony sat back on the table, staring at the ceiling. He was very well aware that he was never going to get answers, and it was driving him insane. Like searching for help, he looked up at the hallucination, who met his eyes with an unfathomable look.

 

“ _Why_?” he demanded, hating how weak his voice sounded but ignoring it because t wasn't like anyone here would be able to judge him. “What _for_ , you idiot? You're a prince, they pardon you for things like that, right? I mean, you didn't intend for things to go like that, you couldn't have known, right? What could have happened here that would possibly justify jumping off a bridge? _In space_?”

 

“My reputation would have been ruined,” Loki reminded him.

 

Tony snorted derisively. “Oh my _God_ ,” he intoned, “your precious reputation. You're right, that's worth it.”

 

Loki glared, his arms crossing with slight defensiveness, and snapped: “Because _you_ would know, wouldn't you? This is court, Anthony, reputation is what it is all about. That does not mean I like it, but the wrong person saying the wrong things about you here can be as deadly as a sword. And with me? I am a prince, a prince unloved by his nobles. They are just waiting for a chance, and attempted fratricide? I have given them the _perfect_ opportunity. They would tear me apart. So yes, my reputation _is_ worth it. I just quickened a process that would have been inevitable either way.”

 

The inventor gritted his teeth and snapped: “You know, this is _disappointing_. The Loki I knew – the _you_ I knew – wouldn't have given up like that, he would've found a way. You always did when it came to saving _me_ , remember? You fooled the whole court of Asgard into believing there's a Jotun attack when it came to protecting me, but you can't think of anything when you need to save yourself?”

 

“And what does that say about you?” the mage asked, very quietly, his piercing eyes fixed on Tony.

 

The inventor's mouth snapped shut and he was briefly thrown off-track before he pulled himself together. “Do _not_ ,” he responded sharply, jabbing a finger in Loki's direction, “make this conversation about feelings. Don't you _dare,_ you have _no right!_ ”

 

“Oh, but it already _is_!” The venom was back in the prince's voice as he angrily took a step forward. “You just don't want to _see_ it, do you? It is alright for it to be about feelings as long as you're allowed to be furious and disappointed, but if it comes to anything else, you back away. And you are calling _me_ a coward, Anthony?”

 

Tony flinched and immediately hated himself for doing so. He was just about to retort something sharp about how _he_ hadn't taken the easy way out as he remembered something.

 

“You,” he snapped, revelling in the wave of anger and bitterness that washed over him, thriving on the fury that allowed him to go on, “are _in my head_. You're not _real_ , and I have no reason to listen to you because you are my goddamn subconscious and– and yes, you may have a point in what you're saying about feelings, but it's _mine_ , not Loki's, and there's no way for you to tell whether this is what Loki would say, because _I_ don't know what he was thinking, and neither do you, so there's no fucking point in listening to a word you say.”

 

“Oh, so you are unable to listen to yourself,” not-Loki sneered, “what is supposed to happen when you see him again?”

 

“ _But I won't!_ ” Tony yelled, his voice breaking on the last word. Quieter, he repeated: “You get it, you're me, I won't see him again. He's d- he's gone, okay?” It was more painful than he had expected to utter the words while staring at Loki's crestfallen face; even while he was talking, he felt himself wanting to believe that this was real, that he could have this.

 

With gritted teeth, Tony turned away to scowl at the floor.

 

“How do you know?”

 

“ _Stop it_ ,” he hissed. “Just stop it. There's no point. _Please_ stop it.”

 

“But you can't know,” the hallucination insisted, and the worst part was that Tony knew it was himself talking. He still wasn't convinced that Loki was dead and gone – logically, he knew, of course, but there was some part of him that still hoped for a wonder. He'd been presented with a world of aliens and magic, was a resurrection so much to ask for? “You can't even know I'm not real. Were he alive, would he not find a way to let you know? And then here you are, refusing to acknowledge me because you think it is all in your head?”

 

Tony sighed angrily and waved a hand. “Go on then. Prove it.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I said prove it. Prove to me that you're real. That this is not just me, playing tricks on myself to, to, I don't even know what, because _I don't believe it_!” He'd gotten louder again by the end of the sentence and took a deep breath. “It's bad enough that I'm here, arguing with myself, _yelling_ at myself because I'm actually desperate enough to hope that there's something behind all of this when I _saw you die,_ but I swear I'm not going to hold out and hope for a miracle that's not going to happen.”

 

He took a few steps into Loki's direction and jabbed his index finger against the prince's chest as he hissed: “I am going to find my way home, and I'm going to live my life and you can't stop me, because you're not here and you'll be gone as soon as I'm off the medication, wanna bet? I will _not_ spend the rest of this disgustingly long life that I've got thanks to _you_ waiting for you.”

 

“If you were telling the truth when you said that you would be ready to stay here, you shouldn't mind,” Loki replied quietly.

 

“If you were telling the truth when you said you'd stay with me and protect me, you shouldn't have let go!” Tony yelled back and turned around, shaking hands balled to fists by his sides. Grabbing the tunic from the workbench and pulling it back over his head while he strode towards the exit, he added in a murmur: “Not that I'd need protection anyway. I'm getting along just fine an my own.”

 

~*~

 

He found Frigga in the gardens, where he and Loki had often encountered her before, and he sat perched on the stone bench next to her awkwardly for a few minutes in which neither of them spoke up.

 

It felt like committing treason, like breaking a promise to himself – one he'd never actually given, but the itch was still there. There he'd been, not half an hour ago, insisting that he wasn't going to hold out hope for some stupid magical miracle because that was ridiculous, and still he sat here now and tried to find a way to word his question.

 

Eventually, he decided that there was no right or tactful way to go about it and broke the tense silence by blurting: “Is there any way he could have survived?”

 

Frigga turned halfway, grey eyes fixed on him in mild surprise. She was silent for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before she answered slowly: “I fear not. The Void is what lays beyond Yggdrasil's branches – I cannot reach out there, and neither could Loki, were he still –” She swallowed, averting her gaze to stare at one of the neat bushes lining the paths. “This is the one place,” she continued quietly, “that I cannot hope to return him from.”

 

Tony nodded, hands clenched in his lap. “Alright,” he murmured.

 

And that was it.

 

~*~

 

The hardest part of going on, as he found out, was sleeping. Of all the things it could be, the people, the still-foreign world, his frequent mood swings that left him either snappy, crying or hysterically happy, it were his nightmares that were the hardest.

 

He realised it when he woke screaming one night, tears on his cheeks and the after-images of a fall still flashing in his mind, and clutched the blanket to his chest with shaking hands. He didn't move, just drew his knees up to his chest and pressed his forehead against them so he wouldn't have to see the things lurking in the dark corners of the room, because this kind of hallucination was a lot less pleasant than the images of his fallen prince. 

 

It took Tony an embarrassingly long time to realise that no-one was going to come for him. He had gotten so used to Loki rushing in during the middle of the night, no matter what the time was, and just  _ being there _ as a constant that he could rely on, that always would be there. He'd gotten so used to being held and soothed that he sat here now, staring at the sheets and trying to get himself to breathe properly, terrified of being alone with his own mind.

 

After the disastrous dinner at the sending, he had taken to eating in the kitchen; he got along with the staff better than with Asgard's haughty warrior classes anyway. Marianne had wordlessly pulled him to her chest, squeezing him in an inhumanly tight hug, and when she had released him, he had seen that her eyes were reddened from crying. It was sort of bitterly amusing that here, among the servants and slaves, Loki was mourned more than in the ranks of the nobles he had been born into.

 

The only person besides Frigga he still regularly had contact with from those higher classes was Fandral. The blond warrior was the only one who had an idea of what Tony was going through – and at the same time, he had no clue of it, because the inventor was trapped on a world that was not his, among people who whispered Loki's name like a curse when they thought nobody  _ significant _ was listening (because even though Frigga had made sure that Tony was not a slave anymore, he was officially no more than a servant), scared of going to sleep and even more horrified of waking up and making his way through another day that held nothing for him, because the only reason he had ever come to accept Asgard as something even close to home was gone, vanished in a black expanse of nothing. 

 

Frigga had seen to making sure that the engineer could keep the room Loki had given him, and she left the prince's rooms themselves untouched. There was no-one who needed them, anyway. 

 

(Except perhaps for Tony, who wouldn't admit to sneaking into the chambers when he felt unable to sleep, finding comfort in the scent and memories that were connected with them, but he forbade himself to fall asleep there. He'd just stay there for a while, curled up in an armchair or maybe out on the balcony where Loki had kissed his forehead in a bout of excitement that would eventually lead to  _ this _ , and god, he'd never wanted that, never.)

 

The routine he made himself follow began with early hours in the kitchen, where he had to keep himself from making the ridiculously sweet porridge Loki had always liked, and after spending a while there, helping out where he could and forcing himself to smile at other people, he would head out for the training grounds with Fandral. The warrior continued the training that Loki had begun to subject Tony to, although neither of them had any illusions about him replacing the mage. Fandral wasn't a bad teacher, but he wasn't Loki. He just wasn't. 

 

But he knew that there were different kinds of grief, that a mother and a brother would mourn their loss differently from the kitchen staff, fond of their mischievous prince. Differently from whatever Tony had been and Fandral had wanted to be. Even if it still wasn't the same, the blond warrior was the one who got the closest to understand, the closest Tony was ever going to get to someone who mourned Loki the way he himself did.

 

After they had finished there, the only time of the day began that Tony could call his, sincerely and truly his. He'd visit the library or lock himself in the workshop, sketching schematics on rough paper and allowing his brain to do what he had missed for so long. Sometimes, he managed to forget everything else while he devoured book after book about the materials Asgard had to offer, their properties and utility, and then put that knowledge to use down in his little laboratory.

 

He only snapped out of that when he found himself talking to Loki out loud, “pass me the thing – the grey thing, the light one, you know”, “what is that supposed to mean, it's constantly charged, that doesn't work, explain”, even after he'd stopped needing Frigga's pain potion to get by; he didn't experience the same hallucinations as before, but he became aware of just how very used he had gotten to Loki always being there in less than two months. From a small cell on a trader's slave ship, he had come to this, and the god had been there with him every step of the way. Up until that day.

 

Without him even really noticing, months passed. It just  _ happened _ – if anyone asked, he couldn't tell them about anything in that time because there was just nothing. Everything remarkable, everything memorable had somehow been connected to Loki; now, he was a half-servant in a palace full of people he had no desire to know, working so he wouldn't have to sleep and doing the same things with each damn passing day. 

 

There was nothing for him to mark the passing of time; others here might do that by specific celebrations that called for one of the grand feasts in the hall, but Tony really didn't care about that sort of thing. He had never even tried to integrate into the Aesir's society, he'd return home as soon as they restored the Bifröst and he wasn't going to look back. Not at them, at least. One person, maybe, but not them.

 

So he waited. With nothing else to do, he waited.

 

With a sigh, Tony leaned forward and grabbed the tool he'd just asked Loki for, suppressing a wince at the loud clang of metal on metal as he began work on the details in the form of the curved steel plate in front of him. His hearing had gone a lot more sensitive than before, possibly due to the apple repairing the damage he had done over several years by loud music and explosions.

 

He barely heard the door opening; only when Fandral knocked loudly, already leaning in the doorway, did he look up and give the warrior a smile that he was proud to say was more than just a reflex. He was fond of Fandral, he could smile without having to fake it with him; it weren't many people he could say that of.

 

“Hey,” he greeted, blowing a strand of hair away from his forehead. It had been continuously growing over the past few months and he had never bothered to cut it; he still kept his goatee neat and immaculate, because the first thing anyone would judge him by was his appearance, but he wasn't going to let anyone else near his head with a sharp blade and had never gotten around to doing it himself. Instead, he'd taken to binding the strands together with a small leather tie to keep them out of his sight.

 

“Evening,” Fandral replied and jerked his head to indicate the hallway behind him. “I was wondering whether you wanted to have dinner.”

 

“You know I don't –”

 

“Not with the others,” the warrior immediately cut him off, waving a hand. “Volstagg is off with his family anyway, and I think Sif is doing her damnedest to charm Thor, who still does not notice a thing, by the way, and Hogun only goes along to listen anyway, so if they do not meet up, he will not be there either.” He shrugged. 

 

Tony twirled his tool between his fingers before he set it down with a smirk. “Just you and me, then.” He was aware of the suggestive tone in his voice, but it was more autopilot than anything else; it wasn't unusual for them to take their evening meals together when neither of them wanted to be in company of dozens of loud, boisterous, obnoxiously cheerful drunkards, and they knew that neither of them could replace Loki for the other, so why bother in the first place?

 

“It would appear so,” Fandral responded, the corner of his mouth hitching up in a smile of his own. “So, do you believe you can abandon your... whatever it is you are working on, since you won't tell me, for a meal?”

 

“I suppose I could, if I had to,” the inventor sighed dramatically, ignoring the half-complaint as he threw one last look at the piece of metal before he pushed away from the workbench and sauntered over towards the door. “Take me to dinner, then.”

 

“It is my pleasure,” Fandral responded and they walked down the hallway towards the staircases side by side while the swordsman recounted some tale just to fill the silence. 

 

Tony listened well enough to throw in the occasional polite “uh-huh” and “oh, really?” and “no she  _ didn't _ ” – he was fully aware that Fandral slept his way through the court to distract himself from his grief. In another time, he would probably have done the same.

 

After a few minutes, as they were walking  _ down _ a staircase instead of up, he realised: “We're not going to your room.” He glanced up at Fandral. “Why aren't we going to your room?”

 

The warrior grinned and winked. “Wait and see,” he replied as he continued to walk. “And let me do the talking.” Before Tony could get so much as a question out, they turned into a hallway with a pair of guards at its end, in front of a massive wooden door. Fandral gave them a half-salute and declared: “The lady Astrid sends us to fetch her a wine for the evening. If you don't mind?” 

 

“Of course,” one of the guards murmured in response, seeming slightly bored, and opened the door for them. “Go on.”

 

With a smirk, Fandral ducked into the staircase behind it and waved for Tony to follow him. As soon as they were out of earshot, the inventor hissed: “What's this about now?”

 

“No warrior of my class gets in here,” the swordsman replied, equally quiet but still grinning. “This is where the nobles living in the palace store their more precious beverages. There are some right gems down here, just wait and see.”

 

Tony blinked up at him incredulously. “What, they've got an entire cellar because they can't be bothered to get their stuff from home?”

 

“Exactly,” Fandral replied with a wide grin and hurried ahead. 

 

“Should've figured,” the inventor murmured to himself. “What else d'you wanna do with a castle this size anyway.” 

 

The cellar looked vastly different from the rest of the palace; no golden walls here, no windows, just stone and wooden shelves stacked with bottles lining the walls. The air was chilled, but tasted heavy, filled with the strong, heady scent of good liquor, the rooms illuminated by the flickering light of the torch Fandral had picked up at the entrance.

 

“Oh, look at this beauty!” he cooed now, running his fingers over a crystal bottle. “You are in for a treat tonight, Tony Stark.” He winked and turned back to where they had come from. “Come on!” Tony huffed, shaking his head with an involuntary smile as he followed the blond, ascending the stairs again that they had come down before. “Have a good night, boys,” Fandral said to the guards, saluting with the bottle, and then calmly sauntered down the hallway towards the stairs that would lead them back up.

 

Tony hurried to catch up and glanced at the swordsman nervously. In a hushed voice, he whispered: “Isn't this the part where we run?”

 

“Hasn't Loki taught you anything?” Fandral tutted back quietly. “This is the part where we leave, very calmly and confidently, like this is exactly what we are supposed to be doing.”

 

“He is no servant, is he?” they heard one of the guards murmur behind them.

 

“Does not look like one,” the other one agreed. After a beat of hesitation: “Has the lady Astrid not left to visit her sister yesterday morn?” Then: “Oi, you there!”

 

“ _ This _ is the part where we run,” Fandral informed Tony with a grin and did exactly that, the inventor scrambling to stay close to him as they jumped up the stairs two steps at a time, much faster than the men behind them because they weren't being weighed down by the pompous golden armour.

 

“Are you sure,” Tony asked breathlessly, “that this is a good idea?” 

 

“Very much so,” the warrior responded without slowing down. “I have been doing it for ages now. The other guards know me by now, but these two were new, how could I resist? Also,” he turned his head to wink at Tony, “I am sure I can find a way to console poor lady Astrid. She is... not unpleasant company, if you know what I mean.”

 

“Whatever you say.” Tony found himself snickering under his breath while they rounded another corner, the steps of the guards already fading behind them as they got into the more lively parts of the castle.

 

They arrived at Fandral's rooms, out of breath and with the swordsman grinning like a madman, and hurried inside. The blond leaned against the door, holding up the bottle as he announced “ _ there _ you go”. After a moment, he sauntered over to the small table that stood in the middle of the room; dinner was apparently already served, and he had obviously expected Tony to come since the inventor spotted two plates on the wooden surface. 

 

He sat down next to Fandral, still smiling faintly, and braced his chin on one of his hands, elbow on the table, as he gestured towards the crystal bottle that sparkled in the light from outside. “Well then, shall we see if it was worth it?”

  
“We shall,” the swordsman replied, grinning, and Tony only noticed that they didn't have the usual goblets, but matching crystal glasses, when Fandral pulled them towards himself to pour out the golden liquid.

 

“Did you  _ plan _ all this?” he asked with an incredulous laugh. 

 

Fandral shrugged with a half-smile. “I might have. Go on, taste it.” 

 

Tony took the glass with a smile and set it to his lips, carefully tilting it to get a first taste of the liquor. The smell distantly reminded him of scotch, and to his surprise, the feeling on his tongue did, too; whoever lady Astrid was, she definitely had a good taste in drinks.

 

“This is fantastic,” Tony stated appreciatively, watching Fandral over the rim of his glass. 

 

The swordsman winked, “told you so”, and began to arrange the food on their plates. They ate in silence for a while, taking small sips from their beverages, until Fandral leaned back with the glass held delicately between his fingers.

 

“You know, the first time I did that was with Loki,” he mused. “We were... what, five hundred years old? And I had told him about my plan to go there because I hoped to impress him. He laughed at me, of course, told me it would never work, and then proceeded to show me how to do it better.” He smiled down at his glass, swirling the golden liquid inside around it. “It was the exact same beverage, that first time. Since then, we used to share whatever I... well.” He shrugged, but didn't exactly look guilty about stealing. “What I brought with me.”

 

Tony swallowed, and when Fandral turned towards him, the inventor could see the intensity in his gaze, the weight of the memories built up over centuries. He felt a bout of jealousy then; the swordsman had had so long to memorise everything about Loki that he could lay eyes on, every quirk and every expression, because he'd had so long – one and a half month seemed ridiculous compared to that.

 

“Sounds like Loki was a bad influence,” the inventor joked weakly, fingers clenching around the glass slightly nervously. There was something in Fandral's eyes that he recognised, and he wasn't sure if he liked it yet.

 

“Oh, but I am the one who started this particular trend, so the blame is on me, really.” The words could have been light and cheerful, but the way that Fandral's voice had dropped, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol and his gaze fixed on Tony as he turned fully on his chair gave them a whole new meaning.

 

Any sort of reply got caught in the inventor's throat as he watched the warrior, and he felt his breath hitch when Fandral reached out and cupped his cheek, pulling him closer as he leaned down. 

 

Tony was unable to move; he went along with the movement while his brain tried to catch up, and before he had managed that, he could feel Fandral's lips, tasting like liquor and the salty meat they'd eaten before, closing over his own. Reflexively, his hand came up to steady himself on the swordsman's shoulder and he clutched the fabric there between his fingers. The other's beard scratched over his own in an unfamiliar sensation, and the hand that had been laying against the side of Tony's face slowly slid down to his neck, over his shoulder – 

 

–  _ down, down, down, all the way down over his bloodied chest, catching against welts and the reactor with too-sharp fingernails – _

_   
–  _ and Tony jerked back,  _ wrong wrong wrong,  _ breaking the kiss with a gasp as his eyes flew open. Fandral's hand dropped from his shoulder, it had never moved further than that, and he seemed to be about to say something, but the inventor beat him to it.

  
“I can't,” he heard himself saying, his voice trembling as he shook his head a little too rapidly. “I'm sorry, I just can't, it doesn't –” God dammit, he didn't even actually  _ like _ guys, he just liked Loki. Had liked. Anyway. “I haven't...”

 

“It's alright,” Fandral replied, holding a hand out in a placating manner, and it could have been soothing if Tony hadn't been so unnecessarily unsettled by the whole thing. 

 

“I just...” He swallowed and found that he had gotten up from his chair at some point and was clutching the headrest with white knuckles. “I can't. Not yet. I can't.”  _ Stammering like an idiot, Stark. Really impressive _ . The inventor took a shaky breath and swallowed. “I better get going. It's, um. It's late.”

 

“Anthony –”

 

“No, it's fine, gotta go.” Tony half-ran towards the door, remembering to throw a “see you tomorrow” over his shoulder before the lock clicked shut behind him.

  
Out in the hallway, he briefly paused to lean against the wall, catching his breath and calming down before he made his way towards his own rooms. Fandral didn't follow him.

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some silent contemplation, then a much less silent talk with the Aesir's first prince and eventual apologies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest with you, I do not like this chapter. But I've been putting it off for sooo long now (so sorry, by the way), I thought I'd just get it out there and maybe edit later. Have fun!

Tony didn't really get much sleep that night. He was hung up on the kiss during the dinner with Fandral and each time he thought he'd forgotten it, it kept coming back to him in some way; a tingling of his lips, the ghost of Fandral's touch along his cheek and neck, the taste of expensive wine on his lips.

 

It made Tony nauseous, and he found himself curled up on the bed and staring out of the window while his shoulders shook with silent, bitter laughter over himself. Getting wound up over one little kiss, he was being ridiculous – especially considering how he had used to do this all the time without minding.

 

Granted, that had never been with a man. He was pretty sure that he'd never kissed a man before Loki had come along; he hadn't been homophobic, that wasn't the problem, he had no issues with other guys who liked men. It had just never been him.

 

Until Loki had to go and screw up his world view, of course, taking his sexuality along for the ride. _Thanks a lot_. And now? He still didn't like men. He'd thought about it, of course, it wasn't like he had much else to do here, oh, he'd been thinking a lot. He'd been looking, too, because it wasn't like they didn't have some very admirable specimen up here in Never-Never-Land. 

 

But he still didn't like men. There was nothing that made him look after them, that caught his eye, at least not in the sense,  _never_ in the sense that Loki had done. He could appreciate someone good-looking, but he'd never feel the desire to kiss that person or, god help him, do anything more with them. He really, really didn't like men. Admittedly, he hadn't felt like kissing women either; again, he had thought about it, theoretically, but hadn't found the actual wish in him. Once upon a time, he might have gone to someone else for comfort, now, however? Even the thought disgusted him. It wasn't that he disliked women, or liked men. He didn't  _want_ to want anyone else. It didn't have anything to do with his sexuality, although he'd still say he was straight if anyone asked him. He didn't like men. 

 

He just liked Loki.

 

With a sigh, he turned over and stared at the door to the room instead, not that he didn't already know every inch of his room. Nothing ever changed here. Asgard was just so damn  _slow_ , everything happened step for step for step, and the only thing he'd had that was constantly moving, changing, making the golds bright and the greens brighter, had been Loki. With beings who lived for thousands of years, where was the sense in hurrying? They were an advanced culture, had surpassed the technology on Earth in many ways, but change was so slow. So comfortable. Nobody liked to rush anything, but Tony was someone who thrived on change. This world was driving him  _mad_ . 

 

Apparently, he did fall asleep over his musings at some point, because the next thing he knew, someone was knocking at his door sharply and Tony was feeling slightly chilled, still laying on the duvet of his bed in leather trousers, tunic and boots.

 

He groaned, straightening up, and hastily ran a hand through his hair a few times as he got off the bed and padded towards the door. Well, at least he'd look as though he was already dressed, he thought wryly, and then hesitated with his hand on the door handle. What if it was Fandral standing out there? Who else was going to visit him, after all? He had no idea how to deal with the swordsman right now, but he  _really_ didn't want to make things awkward between them. Fandral was the one who was the closest to understanding how Tony felt about the whole... Loki thing. It wasn't like he could talk to Marianne about that.

 

With a short, steadying breath, he pulled the door open and was about to greet whoever stood out there, but he found himself momentarily speechless as he came to face with a blond giant – and no, he wasn't referring to Fandral here.

 

“Um, ah, my – my liege?” he stammered, because oh dear, how the hell did one address a prince of Asgard (if he wasn't Loki)? There might have been times when he would have been more insolent than this, but then, he hadn't been living on Asgard for months, he hadn't known how to tread in this foreign place – and he'd had Loki, who would somehow always end up covering for him if he stepped out of line. 

 

Thor nodded in greeting and rumbled in his deep voice: “Greetings, Anthony of Midgard. May I enter?”

 

Tony nodded hastily. “Yeah, sure, of course. Come in.” He stepped aside and bit his tongue so he would stop stumbling over his own words. He'd been awake for less than a minute, he wasn't ready to deal with surprise visitors yet. Especially not this one.

 

He hadn't ever really made a connection with the thunder god; Loki had been avoiding his elder brother wherever he could because they kept riling each other up. Sure, they'd loved each other, but Tony supposed that sibling rivalry was perfectly normal even in the most harmonic of families (and the Odinsons weren't harmonic by any means). Point being, he'd never had much to do with the elder son of Odin, and they certainly never visited each other's private quarters.

 

“So,” he began slowly while Thor entered and looked around in the... well, at least acceptably tidy, there was nothing weird laying around, there was no reason for his nervous fiddling. “To what do I owe the honour?”

 

“I believe there is no need for formalities,” Thor responded, sitting down in a chair as though he owned the place. Being the crown prince, he probably did. In a sense.

 

The inventor perched on the second armchair in the room, only there for Loki's visits, and forced himself not to fiddle as he looked at his guest – or host, considering whose palace he resided in. Thor looked tired and worn-out; he had barely been to Asgard in the past months, and certainly never long enough to bother with stopping by to visit Tony.

 

From what he had gathered on chatter and rumours, the engineer understood that he had been travelling the Nine Realms, settling conflicts and quarrels that had been caused by Loki's schemes. Vanaheim was offended, Asgard was constantly teetering on the edge of a war with Jotunheim, some other place had cut in because there were family bonds connecting them to Freyr and Freyja – who were, of course, less than pleased with the course of events and had visited Tony's nightmares more than once.

 

“Okay then,” Tony repeated, feeling unnecessarily jittery, and cleared his throat. “Thor. What brings you here?” He desperately wished for something to busy his hands with, something to tinker or just a glass of something to drink that he could wrap his fingers around.

 

The thunderer seized him up with a spark of vigilance in his eyes that Tony hadn't spotted there before. It reminded him of Loki, in some distant way; it seemed like the experience actually caused the other man to mature. Well, at least one of them got something out of it.

 

Gravely, he proclaimed (Thor never just talked, his voice always carried an authority with it that called for a more impressive word, even when he spoke quietly): “I have just returned from Vanaheim.”

 

Tony gave his best not to make it obvious that the names made him tense up uncomfortably; he wasn't sure how successful he was. “I see,” he acknowledged, feeling as if it was expected from him to say something.

 

“I wish to know what transpired between the Lord Freyr and my brother,” Thor continued, getting straight to the point, and the inventor nervously licked his dry lips. He wasn't sure how much the prince knew, and he really didn't want to soil Loki's good name – however much he still had in his family, who knew more about the happenings than the rest of Asgard, of course – by letting something slip that got him into trouble. Or as much trouble as was possible, anyway.

 

“Honestly?” he asked. “I really don't know much.”

 

_ You  _ killed _ my  _ son _! You killed one of my sons, and you cursed the other. You had me burned by snake venom for years. What more do you want, you malicious hag?  _ Loki's words echoed in his head and he squirmed uncomfortably.

 

“They seemed to have a... history. I never... I...”  _ I never actually asked Loki about it. I thought I had all the time in the world to find out about it, so I never pressed the issue.  _ Taking a deep, careful breath, Tony looked up from the hem of his tunic which he'd been toying with and forced himself to meet Thor's eyes. “Is it true that Loki had kids?”

 

The god flinched like he had been hit and his formerly expectant expression closed off in a heartbeat. “We do not speak about them,” he responded with steel in his voice, and Tony blinked in surprise.

 

“You don't talk about his kids? Why? What happened?”

 

“It is hardly your place to know,” Thor snapped sharply, his voice rising as he leaned forward in his chair, and the inventor recoiled and dug his fingers into the armrests of his own seat as he tried to cover up his flinch.

 

“Sorry,” he apologised hastily, “I didn't mean to pry, I just...” He swallowed and avoided Thor's eyes, tense as a bowstring.

 

There was a rustle of fabric as the thunderer settled back into his armchair with a deep sigh. “I should not take my bad mood out on you,” he rumbled and Tony briefly looked up, but back down just as fast. “There was a time when Loki was less timid than he is... was. Than he was in the last few decades. His mischief was getting out of hand, he was overstepping borders with an ease that suited him ill. It had... consequences. And he was not the only one who suffered from them.”

 

“I see,” Tony replied slowly and began to settle back down into his chair. He didn't, not really, but he was able to begin piecing the whole thing together. “So Loki has children. _Had_ children,” he corrected himself upon seeing the look on the prince's face. “That means he had a wife, too, yeah? Or is he still...?” For some small, probably silly reason, the thought woke a spark of jealousy in him and he suppressed a self-deprecating laugh. Jealous of a dead man's wife. That was a new level of pathetic.

 

Thor, unaware of his inner conflict, shook his head gravely. “The lady Sigyn's grief was too great, or perhaps it was both of them. Their liaison ended after the death of their children. I don't...” He hesitated, looking suddenly ashamed. “Loki and I were not close at the time,” he admitted quietly. “I was... I was among those who blamed him for what occurred.”

 

“Blamed him for the death of his own children?” Tony asked incredulously. “I'm sorry, but I don't get any of this. Could you maybe give me the full story? Because let me tell you, this doesn't help at all.”

 

Thor looked like he was going to reprimand him for his rudeness towards a member of the royal family, but apparently, he wasn't in the mood for that or something, because he deflated again just as fast. With a deep sigh, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and explained: “Their names were Vali and Nari, they were the offsprings of Loki and the lady Sigyn. At the time, about two centuries ago, Asgard was holding a feast with nobles from all the Nine Realms. Loki and Freyja... clashed. Publicly. He humiliated her in front of the court and, maybe worse, everybody believed his tales.”

  
“ _Tales_ as in she's sleeping with her brother,” Tony stated bluntly.

 

The prince pulled a face, distinctly uncomfortable. “That was what he said, yes.”

 

The inventor leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees. “Gathered as much, yeah. But my question is, do you believe that?”

 

“Does it matter?” Thor demanded sharply.

 

“I don't know,” Tony responded with equal fervour, “ _does_ it matter whether she killed your brother's kids because he was slandering or if she did it because he was telling the truth? Because I know which one I would take.”

 

“It doesn't matter _now_!” the prince snapped, his voice rising in volume again. “Loki is dead, just like his sons.”

 

“And you don't want to know whether they died for a reason or not? How fucking messed up is your oh-so-great Asgardian society? I thought you wanted to know about what happened between Freyja and Loki, so fine, I'll tell you.” He was very nearly yelling too, now, unsure when he had gotten this worked up, but he felt _furious_. “Freyja used me as leverage against Loki, and I was there for every minute of it. You said you weren't close to him at the time it happened, and you said it was two centuries ago, yeah? Well, you shoud've seen the way he _looked_. He was furious, of course, but he was desperate, too, and he was _that_ close to pleading with her because she had already taken his children. And you don't wanna know whether she did it for a reason or not?!”

 

“Why would it matter to you?” Thor demanded harshly.

 

“Because it mattered to _him_!” He sighed, slumping in his chair, and clasped his hands in his lap to stare at his fingers. “It mattered to him and other than you, I didn't even know these children. How can you not care about that? You wanna know what happened between Loki and Freyja, why do you refuse to start at the beginning?”

 

Thor exhaled harshly. “What good does it do now? The children are dead, as well as Loki –”

 

“Did you _listen_ to a word I just said?” Tony stared at the thunderer with something close to disbelief. “Look, Loki is – was your brother. Those were his children. They were practically your flesh and blood, and you don't want to know why they had to die? What kind of uncle are you?”

 

“They weren't,” Thor responded with a sudden edge to his voice.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“They were not my _flesh and blood_. Loki was not.”

 

For a few seconds, the inventor just gaped, eyes wide and mouth agape before he laughed, incredulously, hollowly. “Is that how it works?” he asked flatly. “Is that some sort of Asgardian honour thing? Your brother killed himself so he's not your brother anymore? Man, how I love the society here. Seriously. If –”

  
“Loki will always be my brother,” Thor interrupted him heatedly, “but he is _not_ my flesh and blood.”

 

Tony threw his hands up. “Sorry, buddy, but I'm not following. Stupid Midgardian, right here. Care to spell that out to me? Because you're not making any sense.”

 

“You would do well to watch your tone in front of the future king of this realm,” the prince growled, _and here we go again_.

 

For some reason, Tony felt more exasperated than bothered. Maybe he'd finally stopped giving a fuck. “Alright then, _your royal highness,_ would you have the grace to tell me what the actual hell are you talking about?”

 

Thor scowled at that, but the inventor had seen him getting into fights over less than such a remark and now, the thunderer simply crossed his arms in front of his chest with an expression of displeasure. Maybe he was going to get that temper in check after all. Gruffly, the god elaborated: “Loki was not of this family. Father took him in when he was an infant, but he is...” He hesitated like there was something on the tip of his tongue that he wasn't sure he wanted to speak out loud. “He is no spawn of Odin's,” he said eventually.

 

Tony narrowed his eyes at the other man. “He never said.”

 

“He did not know,” Thor replied, then corrected: “ _We_ did not know. Both father and mother kept it from us; Loki found out on his own while I was in Midgard.”

 

“Oh, great,” the engineer muttered to himself. He felt a little insulted that nobody had bothered to tell _him_ about the whole thing. But he supposed he was just Loki's servant, after all. What good would it do for him to know about things? “You know, that sort of helps to explain why he was just so damn done with all of you. Tell me, did your parents ever plan on letting him now about that? He was a thousand years old, he'd been married, he's had children, you can hardly tell me they were still waiting for him to grow up. When were you lot going to _tell_ him?”

 

“How should I know?” Thor yelled, making Tony flinch at the booming quality of his voice. “I was not the one who kept it from him, I never knew myself. Perhaps they were going to keep it from him, perhaps that would have been for the better – you witnessed his final hours, you know what became of him!”

 

“And that surprises you?” Tony snapped back. “He had the stress of the coronation,” – although he wanted nothing more than to yell them into Thor's face, he still kept himself from spilling any of Loki's plans, even though it hardly mattered now – “Freyja pressuring him, then he finds out that he's been adopted, he thinks he loses his brother and suddenly is king, which was _never_ what he wanted, and you're surprised that he goes nuts? Is it really that hard to understand?”

 

“Stop it!” the prince ordered harshly, flushed with anger.

 

The inventor laughed incredulously. “Oh, you got nothing more to say, so I'm supposed to just stuff it? Yeah? Stop what? Stop defending your brother who was so fucking scared of being rejected by his family that he rather _jumped off a bridge_ than letting y'all tell him what he did wrong? You know, I used to think my family was fucked up, but this whole thing –”

 

He was interrupted by Thor grabbing his collar and hauling him off the chair, forcing Tony to stand on his tip-toes if he didn't want to hang limply in the god's grasp as he snarled in his face: “I told you to _stop talking_! Know your place, son of Stark.”

 

Tony bit his tongue to keep himself from retorting something, because really? That was the best he'd got? _I'm a prince and you're a servant, so you're not allowed to have better arguments than me_? Still, despite popular belief, Tony did have some amount of common sense that kept him from spitting Thor in the face as he glared up at him defiantly, but kept his mouth shut. Even he had to admit that in his precarious position, it wasn't a good idea to anger the heir to the throne.

 

“Fine,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “But if I may remind you, _your majesty_ , you were the one who asked me to talk. I only complied.” What was the worst that Thor could do, anyway? Shove him back out into the slave market? Yeah, that was a possibility, but he wouldn't. Not even Thor with his rash and brutish attitude, Tony was... well, not completely sure of that, but it was enough for him to go on. “And I don't know if you remember, but you were his brother.”

 

The god pulled him even closer, fingers clenched around Tony's tunic, and snapped in his face: “If you know so much better than I do, tell me what I should have done!”

 

“You could have treated him like an equal, just for starters, instead of constantly looking down on him and belittling him just because he doesn't swing a giant fucking hammer around?” He kept himself from making a comment about Thor's intellect just in time because that would probably be taking things a little far. Besides, it wasn't even like Thor was really stupid; however, when you had something like Mjölnir to back you up, tactical finesse was usually simply not required. “It's not your fault that your father acted like an –” _No insulting the king of Asgard, you idiot,_ Tony reminded himself just in time and swallowed the insult that had been lingering on the tip of his tongue. “...that your father favoured you,” he finished lamely. “But I thought siblings were supposed to stick together instead of picking on each other. Like, Jesus, it can't be so hard, can it?”

 

Thor shoved him then, hard enough to send him tumbling backwards and sprawling into his armchair with a surprised, almost-pained huff. Glaring, Tony sat up straight, but didn't get to his feet since the prince had closed the distance between them, towering over him once again as he snapped: “It is not your place to tell me how I should have behaved towards my brother!”

 

_Not your place. Here we go again_ . Tony smiled wryly, but the expression died on his features when he looked up to meet Thor's eyes – what he saw there was anger, of course, that much had been evident in his voice as well, but behind that, behind the glimmering in his blue eyes darkened by fury, there was stifling guilt that he was trying so desperately to cover up. Maybe he was unaware of it himself, too absorbed in his anger, but it was there.

 

No matter what Tony said, no matter how well he reasoned, Thor just wasn't  _ready_ . Half a year, and he wasn't ready to accept his own part in what had happened to Loki. Perhaps it was better like that; Tony had accepted, embraced the guilt from the first day like an old friend, and it hadn't done him any good, had it? During the first two months, he'd been so completely and utterly wrecked it had been hard to muster up the resolve to ever get out of bed again. 

 

It still was like that, some days, but they became more rare and he couldn't be more grateful for Frigga being the way she was – on any other world, under a queen like Freyja, he'd have been back out on the slave market or worse within a day after it became clear that he wasn't going to be of use, wallowing in grief as he was. No, she'd made it possible for him to stay here to recover, and between her and Fandral and the regular visits to the kitchen staff that he began to take up again after a while, even if it was just to make himself do something, he... well, he didn't get over it. Of course he didn't, it didn't work like that, not that easily, not that quickly. His nightmares were worse than ever and more than once, he'd been thinking about how he could escape the millennia-long life that Loki had forced upon him before leaving so unexpectedly. 

 

The point being, Tony had seen how guilty he was from the very beginning, having spurred Loki's plan into action, letting himself be captured by Freyr and Freyja and saying all the wrong this at the wrong moment. Thor, on the other hand, didn't want to see that the way he and his father had behaved towards Loki all his life must have had an impact on him, and although that probably spared him a lot of pain, Tony didn't think he would freely choose to be oblivious like that.

 

He would pity Thor if his contempt wouldn't overshadow his compassion for this man who had not only screwed up royally, but was too cowardly to admit it to himself. So much for godly courage.

 

Somehow, he was sure that Thor knew he was at fault, too. He was unable to acknowledge it, but he knew, and at some point, realisation was going to hit him, and when it came, it was going to hit him hard. Again, Tony almost pitied him, but not really. He was in misery now, but he had begun to take slow, small, baby-steps towards recovery and it was much less likely for him to come crashing back down with a sudden guilt complex because he was carrying its weight already.

 

Quietly, calmly, he nodded, straightening himself on the armchair. “You're right,” he replied flatly. “It wasn't my place. I'm sorry.” 

 

Thor seemed to deflate, surprised, but then nodded curtly. He seemed uncertain what to do with his pent-up fury now, but even he wasn't hot-headed enough to take it out on Tony anyway. That, at least, had gotten better in the past months that he'd spent travelling to balance out the damage Loki had done to the dynamics between all Nine Realms.

 

The prince drew a long, slow breath and nodded again, apparently really at a loss now that there was no resistance from Tony anymore. He probably would have preferred if he had gotten to take his anger out physically; now, he would have to search another outlet than the mouthy servant (not a slave anymore, as he sometimes had to remind himself) who was still living in his brother's quarters. What a pity.

 

“It was not,” Thor confirmed after another few seconds. Apparently, he was really not in the mood for finding anything out anymore, since he seemed to deem the conversation as finished. Turning on his heel, he left the room, slamming the door for good measure.

 

Tony winced at the sound despite himself, and only now that Thor was outside, he allowed himself to draw a shaky breath and pull his legs up so he could rest his feet on the armchair while he let his head drop to his knees. His heart was pounding in his chest like it was trying desperately to get out and, belatedly, the adrenaline made his hands shake.

 

What the fuck had he been  _thinking_ , standing up to a prince –  _the_ prince of Asgard like that? Some months ago, that would have meant his immediate return to the market, if he was lucky. If not... well. 

 

“Stupid,” he hissed at himself, “stupid, stupid, stupid.” Frigga wasn't always going to be there to protect him when he screwed up, just like Loki hadn't been there like Tony had assumed he always would. He couldn't go and take risks like that, how fucking dumb had that been? Just because Thor had been talking shit about Loki – 

 

But maybe, that was enough of a reason. If nobody else was going to stand up for Loki, if Asgard was going to remember him as the prince who destroyed the rainbow bridge (because of course, the blame for that went to Loki instead of his moron of a brother), then there maybe should be somebody else than just Frigga and Fandral who were going to maintain the image of Loki that he deserved. Not an angel, far from it, but not what these people made him out to be, either.

 

Still, was the memory of a dead man worth going back out there? Yes, it had sentimental value, but Tony Stark was everything but sentimental. What was the point for him to keep struggling against Asgard, anyway? He was a servant, who the hell was going to listen to him, anyway? He was going to high-tail it out of here as soon as the Bifröst was functional again. He was going to go – 

 

Not home. But back to Midgard.  _Earth_ , he reminded himself. And after long enough, he'd be able to call it home again, too. Probably. Even though there'd be something missing, a presence that he'd grown accustomed to here; he still caught himself sometimes, raising his voice for a remark directed at Loki, some passing comment that came to his mind and slipped past his lips before he could think about it. Brain-to-mouth-filter, ha. One lesson that his immortality wouldn't be able to teach him either, too, by the looks of it.

 

A polite, quiet knock on his door interrupted his thoughts and Tony quickly took a deep breath, nervousness twisting in his stomach. Who in the world...?

 

Hastily, he sat down normally, his feet planted on the ground, and smoothed out the tunic that Thor had crinkled, adding to the fact that Tony had already slept in it. Deeming project 'looking fresh and well-rested and healthy' a lost cause, he called out more shakily than he would have liked: “Yeah? Come in.”

 

The door opened slowly to reveal a mess of blond hair, however, it was not Thor's honey-tone, but the lighter blond of Fandral, who carefully stepped into the room. Tony tensed and immediately felt guilty for it; he knew that Fandral wasn't going to harm him, but the memory of the kiss from the night before was insistent on the forefront of his mind. He forced a smile, biting his tongue as he reminded himself that Fandral wasn't about to push for more, even though he was in Tony's space, three steps away from his bed, blocking his way to the exit – 

 

“Anthony? Tony.” The blond warrior took a careful step towards the armchair Tony was sitting in, but the inventor flinched, his eyes too wide and his breath too fast, and Fandral immediately froze and put his hands up in a show of peace. “Tony, I am sorry for causing you distress, I really am,” he apologised, looking helpless, and _rationally_ , Tony knew that he was acting stupid and there was no reason to fear Fandral, not _Fandral_ of all the people in Asgard, but having his mind actually catch up with that was another matter entirely. 

 

“'m sorry,” he managed to get out breathlessly, arms slung around his middle, “sorry, I – I didn't mean to – I can't –”

 

“Hush,” Fandral interrupted, trying to soothe him without getting close and possibly setting the inventor off even more. He looked helpless, but did his best to cover it up – there was a reason that Tony liked him, he remembered, he just needed to get his brain to grasp that. “I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. It's fine. I mean, you're fine. You will be fine.” He huffed a frustrated breath, looking like he was about ready to slap himself, but his stammering drew an airy chuckle out of Tony. 

 

“I know,” he murmured, “I know you wouldn't, I'm sorry, I'm – it's a bad day, I'm so sorry –”

 

“Don't apologise,” Fandral cut in once again. “Don't waste your breath. Just breathe deeply. I know you can do it.” He took a few slow steps forward until he could crouch down in front of Tony's armchair, hands twitching as if to reach out, but he stopped himself to ask: “Is it alright if I touch you?”

 

The offer sent another stab of panic through the engineer and he shook his head rapidly, another apology already on his lips. “Not now – not yet, I'm sorry,” he stammered, “I need – I need a moment, can I...”

 

“Take all the time you want,” the swordsman finished quickly, staring up at him out of worried blue eyes. “Just... breathe.” 

 

Tony nodded and, for a bit, did just that: taking deep breaths, as slowly as he could manage, until he could feel his pulse slowing down slightly, enough to reduce the nausea that had started to spread inside him when he'd gotten dizzy from his shallow gasps. He swallowed rapidly a few times, took another deep breath and then forced himself to unclench his arms from around his middle. 

 

Apparently, Fandral took that as his cue to speak up as he said quietly: “I came to apologise about yesterday. It wasn't my place.” Tony felt a thin smile tugging at his lips like he was hearing his own private inside joke, Thor's words from before twisted around. “I hadn't realised it would... affect you as much.”

 

“'m sorry too,” he muttered, although he wasn't sure for what. “I freaked out, it was ridiculous, but I can't – not again, not yet –”

 

“You don't have to,” Fandral assured him quickly. “You really don't.” He seemed like he wanted to add something, but didn't know how to. Tony could relate.

 

“I know,” he murmured, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling as he took another deep breath, feeling tired and exhausted in more than just one way. “I know.” 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I am just going to... quietly put that here and... leave. *waves*

And life went on.

 

It had to, what else was supposed to happen? The repairs on the Bifröst continued tortuously slowly, but it wasn't like Tony was in any sort of rush. He smiled down at the sight beneath his window, just a twinge of bitterness in his expression. He had all the time in the world, after all.

 

He turned away to head for the door, grabbing a sleeveless leather vest that was slung over a chair in passing. He shrugged it on over his dark green tunic while walking as he tried to remember how many months it had been now since Loki had fallen – eight, nine? Time didn't really matter in Asgard, no-one really bothered to keep track of it.

 

Tony was beginning to lose his grip on it, too. He remembered a time when he used to count the days he spent here, back when Loki had still been with him. Day fifteen had involved horseback riding, if he remembered correctly.

 

He stopped by in the kitchens to grab himself a pastry to eat on the way down towards the workshop, promising Marianne that he'd be back later to help. He was _probably_ even going to come back to that promise, if he didn't crash and burn horribly today.

 

Oh, well.

 

While he walked down the hallways towards his workshop, he could feel his mood lightening with every step as his thoughts strayed into another direction. Frigga had allowed him to continue his research and experiments, more than that, even supported and enabled him, and he had made use of that possibility. After a few minutes, he was grinning to himself, practically buzzing with enthusiasm for the first time in ages, and he had to keep himself from breaking into a jog. Still, he took the last few stairs two steps at a time and pushed the doors open with more force than would be usual – since this was Asgard, they didn't hit the walls dramatically because even with Aesir strength, they were too heavy for that, but they did swing open very nicely.

 

When they fell shut behind him with an impressive, resonating thud, he was already halfway across the workshop, striding towards a small pedestal standing against the opposite wall. He raised a hand towards what was standing on it and hesitated briefly.

 

_Loki should have been here to see this._

 

For a moment, Tony didn't move, but then he swallowed and nodded. Yes, yes he should have, and he could still see the light sparkling in his green eyes, bright with fascination as they always were when they were down here or in the library – however, right now, Loki wasn't here. He wasn't going to get anywhere if he let that thought stop him.

 

He took a breath and then rapped his knuckles against the chest plate of the armour in front of him as he murmured: “Let's take you out for a spin, shall we?”

 

The construction was sleek, colours held in an elegant mix of black and green with small, golden accents set where the joints met. It had been one hell of a piece of work; what would have taken him maybe a month or two on Midgard, _at most_ , had been occupying him for almost eight months here. The materials were all new and at the same time, he lacked the possibilities that he'd had in his old workshop – every single piece had to be crafted by hand, and that was _after_ he had figured out which materials and metals would even fit the task.

 

On top of that came the runes and the fucking _magic_. He'd lost track of how much time he had spent in the library, bent over dusty tomes and books, studying enchantments and whatever the hell else they used up here – he wasn't a mage, but then again, magic wasn't just glittery green dust, it was _science_ , there had to be explanations to it. So he studied.

 

If anything, it had served to take his mind off more unpleasant things; that was what work still helped him with, and although it was frustrating when he felt like he didn't make any progress for days at a time and the cryptic explanations drove him up the wall sometimes, it was all the more rewarding when he _did_ understand something.

 

About a month had been spent just thinking about how the hell he was going to power this thing; he needed an energy source _and_ he needed a way to get the energy to the different parts of the suit, which would have been easy back on Midgard, but here? Every single step was a challenge, he was starting from scrap and work it all out from the very bottom. He had no fucking idea what kind of energy source he was supposed to use to make this thing fly, for heaven's sake, let alone make any weapon systems work.

 

In the end, that had been resolved because he'd been angrily ranting about the problem at Fandral for about an hour and although the swordsman knew next to nothing about magic, he _did_ know a bit about Asgardian energy sources, which lead to a conversation about energy crystals, which, in turn, led to more hours in another corner of the library.

 

God, how he loved that library, for all that he disliked about Asgard. Bless it, it wasn't even held in those obnoxious golden colours.

 

So after months of frustration, working through cryptic Asgardian tomes and the occasional explosion ( _bless_ Frigga for making all this possible – there was so many things he had to thank her for and he couldn't figure out how he was ever supposed to make all this up to her), he'd ended up powering the armour mainly through his own arc reactor, with support from various energy crystals built into different parts that were supposed to help with the transport and distribution of energy. In theory. He was going to find out about the practical side of the deal now, he supposed.

 

The suit opened up for Tony and he took another deep breath to calm his racing heart, slipping the vest off his shoulders again because he really didn't want the leather to get stuck anywhere in the joints of the armour and jam them. Not on his first flight.

 

He threw the garment onto a nearby workbench and stepped up and into the armour, which slowly closed around him in a series of mechanical whirs and hums. The HUD, or what he had managed to create that resembled one, lit up before his eyes and showed his surroundings with a greenish tint and Tony flexed his fingers, feeling and hearing the whir and clicking of metal joints. He stepped down from the pedestal and walked towards one of the large windows, more stiffly than usual, but still surprisingly agile. Well, he was just that good.

 

It took two tries to open the window and climbing up onto the windowsill, which had about the height of Tony's waist, was just plain awkward, but then he stood there, feet apart, arms spread, feeling – no, he didn't feel the wind, he was in a metal suit, but the spirit was there.

 

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, closing his eyes as he let himself fall forward.

 

He could _hear_ the wind rushing by, whizzing past him as he squinted in expectation of feeling it, but was once again reminded that he was wearing a helmet. The ground, with Asgard's buzzing streets, was nearing rapidly and with a silent prayer to a God he'd never believed in, Tony turned on the thrusters – and soared.

 

Adrenaline was thrumming through his veins and he heard his own breathless laughter echo in the helmet before he whooped loudly. He'd tested all this and ran calculations and everything, so he'd been fairly sure that it would work, but this was so much more than he'd imagined. This was fucking _amazing_.

 

Euphorically, he curved around the palace, rising up to its towers and circling one of them (barely avoiding crashing into it) before he flew even further upwards, taking in the incredible view from so far up. On top of the palace, above its highest peak, he took a moment to hover and catch his breath, probably grinning like a madman. His stomach was doing somersaults and he was almost dizzy with the rush of endorphins.

 

For the first time in years, he felt _free_. Up here, nothing could reach him, he was above every concern, every problem, every reminder of what weighed him down. He was absolutely free. Weightless. Floating.

 

With another breathless cry, he tipped the armour forwards, then downwards, back towards the ground almost head-first. The roofs were nearing him rapidly and Tony held his breath, waiting until the very last moment before he powered the repulsors up again, flailing briefly at the recoil and then rising again.

 

He lost track of the time he spent like that, figuring out the controls and growing more familiar with the suit which quickly became like an additional limb. This was _heaven_.

 

Still, it had to end sometime, and far too soon, he was flying back through the window of the workshop with far too much speed, crashing into a workbench and toppling it over, followed by a series of crashes and thuds as everything that had been on it found a new home spread over the lab's floor and around (or on top of) Tony, who was laying on his back, limbs akimbo, and was torn between giggling and groaning.

 

The armour opened around him and he sat up, strands of his too-long hair falling into his face where they had come loose from the leather band that he'd tied them back with, and the inventor rubbed the back of his head while he caught his breath. He'd have to work on the landings a little.

 

All of sudden, the door swung open and Frigga hurried in, her skirts fluttering around her as she looked around until she spotted him, sheepishly looking up at her. Tony waved carefully and cleared his throat, trying to ban the grin from his features as he said: “I'll... clean it up again?”

 

She shook her head with a relieved little laugh as she replied: “I believed you had hurt yourself.” However, there was a certain tension in her posture, overshadowing her relief and darkening her eyes.

 

Worriedly, Tony got up, steadying himself with one hand on the workbench that was laying next to him. “No, I'm fine,” he stated slowly. “I'm sorry, should I have – I took the suit out for a test, was that okay? I should probably have asked for permission, I didn't think about...”

 

“No,” she interrupted, so very unlike her, “no, that is not it.” She seemed to steel herself, drawing herself up straighter as she looked straight into his eyes. “Anthony, do you want to go home?”

 

For a moment, Tony stopped breathing, his mouth opening in a silent question that didn't leave his lips. He reached behind himself, steadying himself on the workbench and leaning against its edge, hearing something crunch under his boot as he took a step backwards.

 

He needed a few tries to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him and Frigga, bless her, waited patiently until he managed to get out: “D'you mean – the Bifröst isn't – it's not fixed yet, is it? I know it isn't. There's...” He cut himself off, shook his head, cleared his throat. Started again. “Alright. Okay. What brought this on?”

 

Frigga closed the door behind herself and stepped over a tool on the floor as she approached him slowly. “My husband is sending Thor to Midgard to fetch something. Usually, travelling like that is...” She hesitated briefly. “...not exactly permitted, but I have seen something that made me inclined to take desperate measures.” She didn't talk about her Visions very often, at least not to Tony, but he knew that they were important and not to be disregarded easily. “So since we are opening a gate for Thor, there is a possibility to bring you with him.”

 

The inventor swallowed rapidly, trying to wrap his mind around what he was hearing. He had expected to be stuck on Asgard for _years_ until they managed to fix the damn bridge – it was obviously no easy construction work and so far, there was barely any noticeable progress because nobody seemed to know exactly how it had been built in the first place.

 

“I – yes,” he forced out, “yes, I'm going – oh god.” He buried his face in his hands as he muttered, “I'm going _home_.” Even as he said it, it felt wrong; but it would become right again once he was back, it would have to. He was going _back._ “Yeah,” he repeated, “I'm – I'm going home.”

 

He took a shuddering breath. Yeah, he'd been looking forward to this – at least he had told himself he did, just so he had _something_ to look forward to – but now it was here and he had to deal with it and suddenly, it didn't feel like a good idea anymore.

 

“Can – can I...?”

 

Frigga's previously unreadable expression softened into something sympathetic and she nodded. “Of course. You have an hour to say your goodbyes, we will be waiting at the Bifröst.”

 

Tony nodded, relieved, and willed himself to pull himself together. “Okay, just... two things. First of all,” he pointed at the armour on the floor, “I'd like to take that with me, if I may. It's... well, it's armour, I'll be wearing it, so it won't be an additional bag or anything. Just... you know, it's a bit of...” He trailed off, unsure about how to put it. This was what he'd held himself up with during these past few months, the almost desperate determination to finish what he'd started, finish the plans that had begun to take shape in a cave so many months ago. It had kept him going and given him a goal, something to prove when he had sorely needed it. “A reminder, I guess,” he finished eventually. “I'd... feel uncomfortable leaving it behind, I guess.”

 

She hesitated and Tony felt his fingers nervously clenching around the workbench while he waited and tried not to look impatient as Frigga's gaze wandered over the armour that still lay on the floor like the shell of some creature that had evolved past the stage of hiding in its cocoon and left it wide open.

 

“I do not think it will be a problem,” she _finally_ replied and the inventor exhaled in relief.

 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, “honestly. Thanks. And, well, the other thing...” He awkwardly tapped his fingertips against the glass cover of the arc reactor. He had to force out the next few words because if he wasn't lucky, they might just destroy his chance of getting back again. “When Freyja... when Freyja took me,” he began uncomfortably, “she... she teleported us. The reactor, it interfered with her magic. I don't know how, exactly, but apparently, it messed with the spell or something, I don't understand much about that.”

 

Frigga shook her head. “Don't fret,” she told him. “Freyja's magic is vastly different from that of Odin and myself. Apart from that, I have grown used to your heart device, I will be able to stabilise it. I have already spent some thought on this, believe me.”

 

The engineer nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” They were both silent for a moment, then he straightened up, clapping his hands together. “Alright then, I suppose I'd better get going. Only have an hour, after all, better make the most of that.” He pushed away from the workbench to head for the exit and stopped in front of Frigga, looking up at Asgard's queen. “I... well, still not sure about some things with the etiquette here. Is it okay if I...?”

 

She smiled at him warmly and nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

 

Tony smiled, relieved, and stepped forward to wrap his arms around her tightly, feeling her return the embrace. “Thank you,” he murmured quietly. “Thank you so much, for everything. Really, I just... thank you.”

 

“You are so very welcome,” she answered warmly, her had rubbing circles on his back. “It was my pleasure, all of it.”

 

He nodded minutely and allowed himself another second of the safe, secure feeling of being held in the secure embrace of a mother before he stepped back and nodded, clearing his throat briefly. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I just... wanted to have said it.” Frigga smiled warmly again, but didn't keep the conversation up or made it awkward like it probably would have become if Tony had kept on rambling. “Right. I better get packing, then. I'll see you.”

 

Tipping his imaginary hat back, he hurried past her and out of the workshop, hesitating in the hallway. One hour suddenly felt like a horribly short time and he had no idea where to start because this might be the last hour he ever spent on Asgard.

 

Oh God, this was the last hour he'd spend on Asgard. He needed to _do_ something.

 

Hastily, he hurried down the hallway towards the living quarters while he made a quick, mental list. He'd need to say goodbye to Fandral, maybe more than anybody else beside Frigga, so he headed into the direction of the swordsman's quarters first, hoping to find him there.

 

Of course, as it always was when you were in a hurry, that was not where Fandral was. Tony groaned in frustration, leaning his head against the cool metal of the door, and then turned on his heel to move into the opposite direction. If not here, there might be a chance to meet the swordsman on the training grounds; he only had an hour, dammit, he wasn't going to spend it chasing the blond warrior throughout the palace.

 

He did get lucky on his second guess, though, and hurried towards the area where he'd spotted Fandral. Standing on the side of the area which was covered in sand, he waved the other man over impatiently. The swordsman gave him a vaguely exasperated look, pointedly glancing towards his sparring partner, but when Tony mouthed _it's urgent_ at him, he sighed and disarmed his opponent with two quick movements, gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder and jogged over towards the inventor.

 

“What is it?” he asked, sounding just a little out of breath. Heaven knew how long he'd been out here; his hair was sticking to his forehead in sweat-matted strands, which most likely had something to do with Asgard's sun burning down onto the open space.

 

_When I'm back on Midgard – Earth,_ Tony thought irrationally, correcting himself,  _I'm taking a vacation in England. It never_ rains _here, I'm actually starting to miss it._

 

“I've gotta talk to you,” he replied, looking around, and then added: “Not here.” Fandral cocked his head, apparently confused, and seemed to work on an answer, but Tony cut him off impatiently: “ _Please_ , Fandral, I don't have much time, it's important, alright? I'll explain as soon as we're not being overheard, promise.”

 

The night when they'd wandered down to steal that bottle of wine, followed up by Fandral's alcohol-induced kiss, was about two months ago now. Although the subject had been unpleasant at first, especially from Tony's side because he'd tensely paid attention to not send any wrong signals, which had made the whole atmosphere between them plainly awkward, he considered himself to be over that particular moment by now. He refused to let that one thoughtless moment destroy one of his few friendships in this realm.

 

After another moment in which the swordsman regarded him with concern written clear over his face, he nodded and swiped a sleeve over his forehead as he responded: “Lead the way, then.”

 

Thankful that the other man didn't press the matter, Tony waved for Fandral to follow him and hurried back towards the shelter of the palace to find some spot where they wouldn't have people watching their every move. He was too impatient to walk all the way back to their quarters, so he stopped inside the first empty corridor they came into and turned to face Fandral.

 

“Alright,” he began, wringing his hands in front of his body. “I'm – I've been talking to Frigga. To the queen, I mean. She's sending Thor to Midgard for... something and I'm... sort of going along for the ride. I'm... yeah. I'm going back home.” He took a deep breath and glanced up at the swordsman, who was looking down at him with incredulity clearly written all over his features. Hating himself just a little bit for it, he added quietly: “And... I suppose I'm not coming back. Not until the Bifröst is fixed, anyway. Which, I gathered, is gonna take a bit.”

 

“That...” Fandral began, trailed off, then cleared his throat and started again. “That is... wonderful,” he got out at the second try. “Honestly, I am so very glad for you. Those are wonderful news.” While he did look sincere, there was an expression of honest grief on his face, and while it mostly made Tony uncomfortable with a completely unjustified bad conscience, a small part of him was ridiculously happy that there was someone up here who cared that much.

 

“S'pose they are,” he agreed quietly. “I mean, really. They are. I'm – I'm happy to go back, you know, I didn't exactly leave in nice circumstances. So I've got a lot of stuff to sort out, I'll be happier when I got that done.” He wasn't sure whom he tried to convince more, Fandral or himself.

 

Now that Midgard ( _Earth_ , dammit) was in tangible reach again, he became aware just how much that old life had shifted into the background during the almost two years he'd been gone. There was so much on his mind now – even his nightmares had gotten new fuel that didn't involve Obadiah anymore. That didn't mean he didn't appear anymore at all, but more recent events had taken his place without Tony even really noticing. A nightmare stayed a nightmare; in the end, its contents didn't matter all that much.

 

In an attempt to break the weirdly tense atmosphere, Fandral huffed a quiet laugh. “It is going to be terribly boring here without you,” he stated.

 

“You're a flatterer,” Tony responded drily, “but look at the bright side. When I'm not here to distract them anymore, you might finally have a chance with the ladies again.”

 

“My chances with the ladies are perfectly fine as they are!” the swordsman protested indignantly.

 

With a reassuring pat to the other's arm, Tony said soothingly: “Yes, of course. Keep telling yourself that.”

 

Fandral snorted and they lapsed into silence for another few moments before the warrior shook his head and muttered, “oh, come here”. He grabbed Tony by the arm and pulled him close for a short, tight hug that Tony gladly returned; he hated awkward goodbyes. Especially when it might be his last.

 

He pulled back after a few seconds and found Fandral smiling at him as he said quietly: “I wish you luck, Anthony Stark. Come visit me if you have the opportunity, will you?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony nodded. “Yeah, I will. I mean, it's not like I'm going to run out of time anytime soon. We'll meet again, no need for drama.” He gave a grin, even if it was sort of uncertain, and gave a small, playful salute. “See you around, Fandral.” The swordsman nodded, and look at that, he was just as bad with goodbyes as Tony was. Well, he was just going to hold on to the belief that this wasn't going to be the last time he saw Asgard. This was a goodbye, not a farewell, and he was going to believe that until he was proven differently. “Okay then,” Tony said, a little more loudly than necessary as he clapped his hands together. “I still gotta pack, so I'll be off now.”

 

He raised his hand for another short wave, then hurried off before he could draw the situation out even longer. Before he made his way towards the chambers that he and Loki had lived in, he made a quick detour towards the kitchens; somehow, he felt like he owed it to the staff and Marianne, who swept him up in an embrace tight enough to force the breath right out of his lungs before she handed him a piece of some sweet pastry and sent him on his way after he had exchanged pecks on the cheeks with half of the girls working in the kitchen. That was what he got for working with women for a year.

 

Not that he was complaining, mind you. Maybe he should have pretended to leave earlier if it got him all those hugs and kisses.

 

After that, with about a quarter of an hour left, he practically jogged back to his room, moving as fast as he could without actually breaking into a run. He was slightly out of breath by the time he arrived and, without much of a second thought, stumbled into Loki's room.

 

He cast a look around and took a deep breath, heart pounding in his throat not only from exertion. He was leaving; maybe not for good, and so far, they had left Loki's chamber alone, but what if it had changed by the time he was back? _If_ he got back? Maybe that was the last time he saw this room, that was a very legit possibility, knowing his luck.

 

With a few steps, he had reached the door that led to Loki's massive wardrobe, a room all of its own, and breathed in the smell of leather that still lingered in the air. It was, somehow, incredibly comforting and he wasted another minute just standing there and breathing it in as he looked around. Slowly, he trailed his fingertips along the racks of clothing until, at the far end of the room, he reached the shelves where the simple, folded tunics were stacked.

 

_Nobody would know._

 

Irrationally, Tony looked back over his shoulder like he might discover Frigga or Thor or Odin suddenly standing behind him, then he glanced back at the tunics in front of him. Nobody would know. Nobody. He couldn't pack anything other than the armour – but nobody was going to know what he was wearing  _beneath_ the suit.

 

After a few more hesitant moments, the inventor took a breath and picked a dark green tunic at random. He buried his nose in it for a second, biting his lower lip against the tears that threatened to well up at the familiar scent.

 

God dammit, would that reaction ever stop? He had thought he was done with it.

 

Vehemently, Tony shook his head against the tears and drew a shaky breath. He pulled the tunic over his head before he could think better of it, smiling faintly at how it made the height difference between Loki and himself obvious – the sleeves covered his hands down to his knuckles and the hem of the tunic hung about halfway down to his thigh. There were golden adornments on its sleeves and collar and it was probably cut to fit snugly on Loki's waist, which still made it too large for Tony, but he didn't mind. This was a piece of memory that he could take with him.

 

Turning on his heel, Tony hurried out of the room before he could give in to the temptation to curl up in a corner and bury himself in a leather coat to never come out again. No, that wouldn't be even remotely helpful, thank you very much.

 

The only problem was getting from here down to his workshop unnoticed – or, more precisely, preventing anyone from taking note of his getup. The too-large dark green tunic over the more fitting one was probably not even excusable as a fashion slip-up anymore, even though the colours were the same. By now, people knew him; before, he'd been the younger prince's strange slave and now, he was the servant living in the fallen prince's quarters. He wasn't a celebrity, exactly, but he got recognised on occasion.

 

As it turned out, he needn't have worried. He tucked the tunic under his arm and hurried back towards the workshop while he tried not to look like the personification of guilt, and since he kept his head down and took care not to bump into anybody – turning invisible was a skill that he had learned early on – there was nobody to call him out on his little act of thievery. With a faint hint of amusement, Tony shook his head over his own paranoia.

 

Back in the workshop, he pulled the tunic over his head again and shoved the sleeves up to his elbows as he set to work on tidying the room a little. He heaved the workbench he'd toppled over before upright again and picked up the worst of the mess he'd spread on the floor before he took a last look around. He had no way of taking his research with him, but he had memorised most of it, so he would just hope that that would be enough.

 

And, after all, he might be returning in a few years' time.

 

With a faint feeling of shock, Tony realised that some part of him was going to miss Asgard. Sure, it wasn't even halfway the same without Loki, but this was the place where he had begun to recover, had dared to begin trusting other people again. His stay hadn't always been pleasant, but there were fond memories attached to the place. In some aspects, it had almost become  _home_ , although it would never actually be one without a certain someone who was out of the picture now.

 

The inventor shook his head and awkwardly climbed into the armour that was still splayed out on the floor. It was impractical, but definitely easier than trying to lift the heavy suit from the floor; instead, he clumsily straightened up as soon as it had closed around him and stomped over towards the window.

 

God, the things he would be able to do with this suit once he had his technology back.

 

This time, he didn't bother to climb up onto the windowsill to start; the clumsy last time had been enough for now. As elegant and smooth movement in the armour was when he was in flight, climbing and walking was still a little difficult if he wanted to go further than simple steps. Acrobatics weren't really much of an option as of yet.

 

Carefully, he powered up the repulsors to hover over the ground after the faceplate of the helmet had snapped shut. Carefully, he manoeuvred out of the window, briefly glancing over his shoulders but then shrugging. It would just have to stay open, he couldn't very well close it from the outside.

 

Even though he knew it didn't have to be, speeding away from the palace felt final. He'd be returning one day, he was fairly sure of that, simply because it was bound to get boring on Midgard after a bit when he had a nearly immortal life span and outlived everybody around him. He tried not to think about that particular part of the deal too much. Anyway, once the Bifröst was restored and allowed travel without the use of some sort of forbidden magical energy (not that he understood too much of that), he was most likely going to drop by again.

 

He wondered when he had begun to think of Asgard as a place worth returning to.

 

Tony landed on the Bifröst bridge with a solid thud, coming to stand next to Frigga and a step behind Thor. The queen glanced over at him, eyeing the armour curiously, but it was hardly a time for questions so when he flipped the faceplate up to give her a respectful nod, she just returned it silently and motioned for him to stand next to her son.

 

The inventor complied, greeting Odin with a small bow as well as was possible with the suit around him and a murmured “your Majesty”, which the god responded to with a quiet, gruff sound; they had never actually spoken to each other and the old man probably just let Tony tag along because his wife had asked him to. Oh, the things Tony owed to Frigga.

 

He glanced over at Thor, who had an uncharacteristically grim, dark expression on his face, and not for the first time, Tony wondered what exactly was important enough to send the thunder god down towards Midgard when the transport really needed that much energy and effort. _Something_ serious had to be going on down there, but the engineer doubted that now was the right moment to ask when Odin said a few words towards Thor about taking care and not wasting any time with his mortal and about how he knew how important this was, which told Tony _nothing_ , thank you very much (he was beginning to believe that was on purpose).

 

Well, he was bound to find out, he supposed, if he tagged along with Thor for a bit after they arrived. The thunderer would hopefully not mind, even though they weren't exactly on best terms. Tony didn't even really blame it on the argument that they'd had after Thor had come to ask him about Loki and Freyja (which, later on, he had never attempted again); they had just never really hit off. They had never had to do much with each other because other than his adoptive brother, Thor had never taken an interest in Tony in any other form than something to tease Loki about.

 

And, well. That wasn't really possible now, was it?

 

While he had been silently musing, Odin and Frigga had taken up a quiet murmur, reciting and murmuring a sequence of words that came together in a strange sort of harmonic chant, accompanied by the prickle just under his skin that Tony had come to associate with magic. In the last moment, he remembered to quickly close the faceplate of the suit before the world suddenly seemed to tilt around him.

 

Being teleported by Freyja had been horrible, apparently due to the effect that the arc reactor had on spells woven around it. It was something about its energy signature, as Loki had told him at some point in the laboratory, because the reactor emitted its very own frequency that apparently had the potential to interfere with magic, especially when it was unexpected by the spell caster. Frigga, though, was prepared, so despite the fact that they were crossing the borders between realms, the tension bled from Tony's body when he noticed that crossing the borders of realities didn't bring the same painful feeling with it that it had last time.

 

Since it wasn't the first time he had been transported this way, he was actually able to determine the moment when they arrived and everything seemed to fall back into its proper order around him. Still slightly incredulous, Tony took a first look around as he took off the helmet for a moment.

 

They stood on the top of... well, not a mountain, but a formation of rocks that looked out over a forest, dark except for the weak light of the moon, giving the whole scenery a slightly silvery touch.

 

Asgard's moons were _much_ brighter than that.

 

The next thing he noticed as he took a deep breath was how different the air tasted. He hadn't been here in nearly two years, Tony realised, and this... this felt _foreign_. He hadn't just taken a holiday in another country, he had seen completely different worlds, he had been further away from here than he would ever have thought possible. Now that he was back, the differences seemed all the more obvious; the slightly richer scent of Asgard's air, but also the pleasantly chilled atmosphere of this place that the Golden Realm with its eternal summer lacked – and the helicopter. Hearing helicopters was really not likely in Asgard.

 

Tony glanced upwards and could just barely make out a black shape against the dark night sky, approaching quickly and – and there Thor went, taking off with his hammer without a single word.

 

“So much to ask for just to tell me what the fuck is going on, is it?” the inventor muttered, shaking his head. He took another look around; the knowledge that he was back on his home planet, his home world, hadn't quite settled in yet, maybe because it was a place he had never seen before. If not for the sound of engines approaching, he could have mistaken this landscape for that of any other forest on any other planet.

 

Since he didn't have a clue where he was, Tony decided on following Thor and pulled his helmet back on quickly before he took off into the air after the other man. Thunder was rolling across the sky now, black clouds darkening the moon, and Thor did like to make an entrance, didn't he?

 

While he quickly caught up, Tony could spot him approaching the helicopter – no, that wasn't a helicopter, that was a... quinjet? Yeah, this was definitely Earth – and did a long sweep around it to fly down towards it, landing on top of it with a loud thud that shook the entire vessel.

 

“Someone in there isn't gonna thank you, buddy,” Tony murmured, wondering what it was that prompted Thor's interest in that particular quinjet.

 

The hatch on its rear end opened to reveal a blue-clad figure holding on to something inside to prevent himself from falling out. Tony reached the quinjet just when Thor dropped from its top onto the opened hatch. The man in stars and stripes stepped forward with an indignant “what do you think you're doing” on his lips, but Tony's attention was elsewhere.

 

With any sort of witty retort dying on his lips, he practically ripped off his helmet to get rid of the green tint that the HUD gave his vision as he stared at the man who was strapped to a seat near the hatch, the wind pulling on his clothes and tousling the matted black strands of long hair falling down to his shoulders. The inventor couldn't get a word out; he felt frozen in place and suddenly dizzy like someone had forced every last bit of air from his lungs.

 

Motionless, he stared as Thor pulled the man out of his seat, and all Tony could think of in the split-second that their gazes met was how _wrong_ the cold blue colour of Loki's eyes was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance - first for the ending of this one, secondly for the fact that I most likely won't be able to update next weekend because I'm spending the week in England and don't believe I'll have much time for writing... Forgive me!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some questions (though not the most important one) are answered and other, unpleasant ones are posed. Tony doesn't like this one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long! Spent the first bit of the holidays away, then sick and now in the hospital for the past week and to be honest, I'm still on painkillers while writing this, so if there's any nonsense in this chapter that desperately needs correcting, please don't hesitate to tell me.
> 
> That being said, I do hope you enjoy this (once again belated) chapter and I hope to be back on my feet properly soon so I can get more writing done!

For a few seconds, Tony literally just stood frozen in place and stared incredulously, even as Thor had already grabbed Loki and jumped out of the quinjet again. By the time he pulled himself together, the blue-clad man stood in front of him, looking both wary and concerned, and...

 

“Captain America?” Tony blurted out incredulously, because Jesus Christ, his hallucinations were going too far on this one. “Okay, whatever. Big fan. Gotta go.” He stepped backwards, wrenching the helmet back on as he dropped down from the hatch despite the protests behind him.

 

No, no, no. This was all wrong. What the hell was going on here? Maybe he really was seeing things again, but he hadn't been using the potion for a year now, although sometimes the temptation had been great to take another dose just to see whether he was going to 'meet' Loki again, projected by his subconscious.

 

But this here? He didn't get this at all. What in God's name was Loki doing here?

 

Phrasing this differently, how was Loki alive? No, still not right. How was Loki alive _for a fucking year_ without saying a word, without giving any sign while Tony had been grieving his heart out stuck up in Asgard, and now had the guts to turn up on Midgard of all places?

 

_Earth, it's fucking Earth,_ Tony corrected himself angrily while he fired up the thrusters to balance out his rapid flight downwards. Angrily? Or just very, very confused? He didn't  _know_ anymore, seeing Loki had felt like a punch to the stomach, like being turned upside down. Forget about genius, he wasn't keeping up with this anymore. 

 

It took him a moment to spot the brothers, who were arguing on top of some rock formation, Thor with Mjölnir in his hand, raised threateningly. Tony headed straight towards them and realised too late that he wasn't going to be able to slow down in time – in his defence, he had only flown this suit once before, he was still getting used to it. With an almost startled cry, he knocked Thor over and scrambled to get to his feet and away from the god before he could think about making use of Mjölnir.

 

“Sorry, your Highness,” he apologised quickly, then flipped his faceplate up to look at Loki, who regarded them with a sort of distant amusement. “And as for you – what, Loki? Just – what? Care to explain any of this?” He stood between the siblings, uncertain whether he wanted to kiss Loki or punch him in the face. Maybe both. Both sounded good.

 

Still with that little smirk playing around his lips, Loki cocked his head, too-long hair falling over his shoulder and unsettling blue eyes fixed on Tony. “Oh, look at that,” he drawled, “little Anthony all up and standing on his own feet.”

 

_Punch him. Definitely punch him._

 

“No thanks to you,” Tony snapped, which maybe was unfair, okay, but Loki wasn't being exactly tactful either. “Where the hell have you been?”

 

The small smile vanished, a cold, distant expression taking its place. “Making friends,” the fallen prince responded, his voice flat and unreadable.

 

“ _Making friends_ ,” Tony repeated incredulously. “I can't believe you. You were gone for almost a year, I'm saying it again, where the fuck have you been? I'm glad to see that you seem to find this so incredibly funny, but frankly, I don't quite get the humour. Care to let me in on the joke?”

 

Thor cut in again before his brother could answer: “This is hardly the time for your petty quarrel. Loki, where is it?”

 

“Petty quarrel?” the inventor echoed, sputtering. “Sorry, have you missed the part where Loki apparently was alive during the past year and didn't deem it necessary to tell anyone? Does that bother you? No? Just me, then.” He threw his arms up. “Oh, fantastic. What a reunion. I'm sorta missing the violins in the background.” Babbling, he was babbling, but he didn't know what else to do. In a matter of minutes, he felt like his world had been twisted inside out _again_ – he had planned to go home, sort himself out, get his old life back under control as well as he could manage, but no, that would have been too easy, wouldn't it?

 

Loki spread his arms, still with that false little smile playing around his lips as he replied: “You need the cube to bring me home, but I sent it off, I know not where.” He looked so damn smug, so incredibly pleased with himself, that Tony was partly tempted to just watch this play out. Apparently, he was the only one who had no idea what exactly was going on here.

 

“Now listen to me, brother –”

 

“You're arrested, all of you,” another voice cut in, distinctly American.

 

“Thank god,” Tony sighed, which earned him a confused glance from the man clambering up the side of the rock formation they had been arguing on. The inventor cocked his head, eyes narrowed, while he regarded him. “Are you the real deal, by the way? Gotta explain that trick to me sometime. What did they do, clone you? Or did they find another blond with a killer jawline? Nice uniform, by the way, love the retro look.”

 

With every word, the confusion of maybe-Captain-America in front of him seemed to grow, increasing together with Tony's confidence. He knew that look from people he had talked to, even if it was long ago; he'd been used to getting looks of irritation up to utter disbelief when he had his public outings, and although he would admit that he hadn't been exactly mature just these two years ago, this kind of attention still felt better than what he got as the servant boy on Asgard. He was used to people not being able to follow what he was saying.

 

“Yeah,” the figure replied just a little belatedly, “I'm the 'real deal'. They got me out of the ice a few weeks ago. And agent Coulson thought a little 'retro' might be reassuring in the current situation.” While he spoke, the quinjet approached, hovering above them and causing a draft of air that caught in Thor's cape and made it flutter around him.

 

Tony raised an eyebrow and echoed, “the current situation?”, however, the hatch of the quinjet opened and the Captain forewent his question for the moment to extend an arm towards its inside. He had to be aware that he would never be able to beat the three of them in a fight, but he still managed to look authoritative when he extended an arm towards the small, hovering plane and said, not really a question: “Do you mind?”

 

The inventor raised his hands in protest. “Oh no, no, we're just here to collect him,” he said, nodding towards Loki. “No need to arrest anybody. We'll be –”

 

“Actually,” Loki cut in smoothly, taking a step away from Thor, “that is not quite true. Didn't they tell you anything, Anthony?”

 

“When did you get so damn patronising?” Tony snapped at him. True, he'd been sort of Loki's pupil back on Asgard, if you could call it that, but he'd never heard the god sound like that, not when he'd addressed Tony. There'd always been fondness, at the very beginning at least curiosity, but that... _patronising_ , belittling tone had never been a part of the whole thing. This Loki was so disturbingly wrong in so many ways.

 

The inventor took a deep breath and folded his arms as well as was possible inside the suit as he continued: “And actually, no. Nobody is telling me fucking anything. I bet I wouldn't even be here to ask stupid questions if it was Thor's decision, no offence, your Highness, so if anyone would mind telling me why exactly I'm being arrested by Captain America himself, I'd be most grateful. I mean, while it's certainly an experience, it wasn't exactly on my bucket list. There. I asked. Happy now?”

 

Loki had his head tilted to one side and regarded him with a sort of silent amusement that was absolutely unsettling, just like the way that his bright blue eyes ( _wrong, wrong, wrong_ ) were fixed on Tony like he was contemplating something that he didn't care to share with the world.

 

He might be repeating himself, but this was not the reunion that Tony had expected or wished for.

 

“Get in the plane and we'll explain everything else,” the Captain said, now with a warning undertone to his voice, and Tony met Thor's eyes.

 

“Sounds like a deal to me,” he commented and while he hoped that the Asgardian wouldn't be stupid enough to say it out loud, he was fairly sure that Thor was aware that even Captain America, even with support from whoever his pilot was, wasn't going to be able to stop them if they decided to cut the trip short. Three Aesir (because he counted as an Aesir now, after all, plus he had the support of his armour) were more than a match even for someone with the blond man's superhuman strength. They could always leave if things went south.

 

Thor returned his gaze for a few seconds, then nodded and agreed in his deep, rumbling voice: “Very well. We shall accompany you, Captain.”

 

Relieved that that had gone so smoothly, Tony nodded and took it on himself to go first. He didn't like having to wait for the thunderer's agreement, but he was aware that the prince would be a lot happier if they just let him take the lead and he wasn't going to make this situation even more complicated by pissing Thor off more than was absolutely necessary. He had learned to keep his head down.

 

The pilot twisted in her seat to greet him and while Tony had seen his share of goddesses during his time on Vanaheim, he had to admit she was stunning. Red curls framed her pale face, reaching down almost to her shoulders, she had full lips and the look she levelled him with from her green eyes was intense. She introduced herself as agent Romanov and was about to turn back towards the consoles when he replied: “Tony Stark, nice to meet you.” She froze for a second and then turned back, a glint of recognition in her eyes.

 

“Tony Stark?” she repeated and he set the helmet aside, spreading his arms as he grinned widely. So his name still rung bells on Midgard.

 

“The one and only,” he replied. “News flash. Not dead.”

 

“It would seem so,” she agreed slowly. “Alright, don't tell me now, you'll be questioned on the Helicarrier. I won't be answering any questions before that either.”

 

“I guess that sounds fair enough,” Tony sighed – oh, he didn't like it, but he did understand her reasoning. Besides, he didn't fancy telling his story (or what of it he was going to tell whomever she worked for because he sure as hell wasn't going to reveal everything) several times, so it was probably easiest if they got it done in one go.

 

Thor had taken a seat next to Loki and the Captain had sat down on the god's other side while Tony had been speaking with their pilot, so he strapped himself into the seat opposite the younger prince and leaned back against the wall as much as possible while wearing the suit.

 

He met Loki's eyes – that blue colour was driving him insane, he had loved Loki's expressive green eyes and now they just seemed... cold, staring out of a face that looked even paler than usual. There were dark circles underneath them and they carried a haunted expression, no matter how much Loki tried to appear distant and superior, that Tony recognised because he had seen it too many times when he'd looked into a mirror in the morning.

 

Loki looked like he'd been tortured.

 

He was skinnier than usual, too; he'd always been lean, not as muscled as Thor or the others, but there'd been a strength to his frame that looked different from the wiry state he was now in.

 

_What happened to you?_ Tony was sure the question was obvious without speaking it, but the challenging gleam stayed in Loki's eyes. He wasn't going to speak first and Tony didn't want to ask with the others around. He'd have time for that later because he sure as hell wasn't going to let Loki off again that easily. He had still trouble believing that the prince was here, alive and – maybe not well. But alive.

 

The ride was spent mostly in silence. Agent Romanov briefly explained the function of SHIELD to them without mentioning what that had to do with Loki, although she did drop a hint that they had dealt with Thor during his brief stay on Midgard, but apart from that, she kept to herself and so did everyone else; the atmosphere was too tense to start up any sort of casual conversation, however much Tony wondered how the hell they had gotten Captain America here, assuming the man actually was the real deal and not just some sort of really good clone. He seemed to have missed some things during his time away.

 

Tony hoped that SHIELD was taking in Loki because they had some sort of policy about extraterrestrials. Maybe they needed to be registered. Maybe there was even going to be a greeting. A welcome committee, that sort of thing.

 

Somehow, he didn't quite believe that it was all that simple.

 

Since nobody told him anything though, even Thor remaining in stony silence, he settled in for the wait and continued his staring contest with Loki, who didn't seem inclined to share anything either.

 

That was not how Tony had imagined them meeting again. He'd freely admit that he had entertained the thought – Loki was nothing but resourceful and it was unlikely, sure, but during lonely nights when sleep wouldn't come, Tony had tried to imagine ways for the prince to return. Obviously, that hadn't been as unrealistic as he believed, however, their 'reunion' was nothing like he had pictured it. Something was really, really wrong here, apparently wrong enough that the information wasn't to be disclosed to him. Fucking fantastic.

 

Time stretched like old bubble gum until Romanov  _finally_ announced that they had reached their destination and Loki broke away from the inventor's gaze as he was pulled up and out of his chair by the Captain. 

 

“Welcome to SHIELD,” their pilot said after the quinjet had set down and the hatch began to move down, inch by inch giving way to daylight on top of...

 

“Whoa,” Tony made, honestly impressed. “This is not bad. Not bad at all.” He was looking out on something that looked like the landing deck of a plane carrier, but it was easily the biggest Tony had ever seen. And he'd seen quite some of those. “I'm aware that I've been... away for a bit, but this isn't standard now, is it?”

 

“Far from it,” Romanov answered, stepping out on the hatch beside him. “And you haven't even seen the best part yet.” She looked up at him (oh, she was _tiny_ ) with a smirk, the sort of expression someone would wear when they saw a small child getting excited over a new toy.

 

Well, in his defence, Tony had every reason to be excited. This looked amazing.

 

“Oh? So what's the best part?” he enquired curiously.

 

She threw her hair back over her shoulder and left the quinjet with smooth strides, calling back at him: “You're gonna see it fly.”

 

Tony was about to reply something as he followed with loud, clunky steps, but he forgot about that when he saw a squadron of black-clad soldiers approaching Loki and snapping shackles around his wrists. What the hell was going on here?

 

“Hey, is that really necessary?” he demanded as he caught up with the red-head.

 

She raised an eyebrow at him, then looked over towards Loki. “You really do know nothing, do you?” she asked, sounding almost pitiful.

 

“You might as well call me Jon Snow,” the inventor responded, rolling his eyes sharply. “No, _as I said_ , I have no idea what the fuck is going on and nobody bothered to tell me so far. But I'm telling you, whatever is going on, I'm sure Loki can be able to help.”

 

“I don't think so,” she cut him off, suddenly cold. “If you would just wait for the briefing, Mr Stark.”

 

“Oh for – alright, forget it.” He threw his arms up, ignoring the looks he was getting from all around them. “So before that briefing of yours, do you maybe have somewhere I can store the suit? I'd rather not walk around in it full-time, especially not if I'm going to sit through a briefing.”

 

Romanov looked up at him for a moment, then touched the comm in her ear. “Director, I brought a surprise.”

 

~*~  
  


Tony left the suit in a storage room and took the liberty to reset the codes for the entrance before he put it on lock-down. Even though it was unlikely that anybody here was going to be able to operate the armour, he was always better off safe than sorry.

 

After a short hesitation, he also left Loki's tunic neatly folded next to the suit. Running around with an unnecessary layer of clothing would look ridiculous, not to mention that Thor would most likely recognise the garment.

 

“Okay then, here we are,” he said in a way of greeting as he entered what seemed to be the control room of the ship (Helicarrier, as Romanov had called it). Some heads turned his way, then back to their monitors and Tony felt a pang of amusement when they suddenly snapped back with a mixture of incredulity and recognition – he had regularly been on the front page of pretty much every American magazine for ages, two years were surely not enough to completely forget him.

 

The one who caught his eye, however, was a tall, bald man with dark skin who turned around with a dramatic swirl of his leather coat (he had totally practised that) to fix Tony with a stare from his one good eye. For a moment, Tony held his gaze, then the man turned towards Romanov who was seated at a glass table with Thor and the Captain.

 

“And you checked he's not a clone, yeah?”

 

Tony snorted. “Funny, I was going to ask the same thing about your Captain America. Which museum did you find him in?”

 

The man in the leather coat looked back at him and stated with dry sarcasm: “Forget what I said. That  _is_ Stark. Which leaves the question of how you are here.”

 

“Aren't you going to introduce yourself?” Tony asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

 

“Nick Fury, director of SHIELD,” came the immediate reply. Oh dear, top brass. “Also the founder of the Avengers Initiative.”

 

“Which is...?” the inventor prodded. “Sorry, I'm not quite up to date on the latest charity clubs, if you'll excuse that. Didn't get the _Sun_ where I was.” 

 

“And where would that be?” the director inquired, ignoring Tony's own question.

 

He raised his eyebrows at the taller man. “I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours. Or rather that of the little gang here.” He gestured behind him.

 

It followed another moment of silence during which Tony tried not to squirm under the surprisingly intense look from Fury's one eye, then the director nodded and made a gesture for him to take a seat at the conference table before he pulled up a digital file on the glass surface.

 

“You've got some reading to do, Mr Stark,” he said. “Better hurry up, the last member of the team ought to be back from the lab in about five minutes.”

 

“Not a problem,” Tony muttered, already engrossed in the file before him. It was complete with video clips and descriptions of all the five members of this _Avengers Initiative_ of the director's and apparently, Tony had missed quite a bit while he'd taken his trip through the galaxy. The Initiative didn't seem fully formed yet, but the file listed people who were considered for one reason or another.

 

_Steven Grant Rogers, Captain America._ Yeah, he'd met that one. Apparently, they had pulled him out of the ice where his plane had landed – so he really, actually was the real deal. Well, if that wasn't something.

 

_Robert Bruce Banner, Hulk._ Tony frowned. He definitely knew that name, the man had written some impressive papers while the inventor had still been around, but he didn't see how he qualified for an Initiative like that. That was until he caught sight of the giant on the video clip. Oh dear.

 

_Thor Odinson, Thor._ Ha. Yeah, well, nothing new here. He'd come into contact with SHIELD during his first stay on Earth, as Tony had suspected, and with the current situation, he was apparently an asset that they would like to have on their side.

 

_Natasha Romanov, Black Widow._ So there was something more to the red-headed pilot than just the ability to fly a plane. From the way she moved, Tony had suspected something like that, plus no normal pilot ran around in a leather suit like that.

 

_Clinton Francis Barton, Hawkeye._ He hadn't seen that one around, but his file certainly looked impressive – he was the first one who appeared to be... well, normal. Even Romanov had started her 'career' as a kid already, and while the file didn't disclose any personal information, it didn't seem like Barton had started working for SHIELD until he was an adult. 

 

“A merry little gang of weirdoes with powers,” Tony muttered to himself, chuckling. Even the two agents, who were probably the most normal possible members, appeared to be far above the level of the average secret agent. If there was such a thing as an average secret agent, that was. 

 

He looked up at the other residents of the table, intending to ask why it was that they had actually been called together, but he got the answer as he saw that Romanov had pulled up a screen of her own and leaned over it. Tony quickly got up and walked around the table to stand next to her when he spotted Loki on the picture, looking around in a round glass prison with mild interest while Fury stood in front of him, working the control panel.

 

“ _You get how that works. Ant – boot.”_

 

Tony clenched his fingers on the back of Romanov's chair as he leaned over her, not wanting to miss a single word. Maybe he would finally learn what the hell was going on here – so far, he didn't like it one bit.

 

“ _It's an impressive cage,”_ Loki was saying with an infuriating little smirk playing around his lips. “ _Not built, I think, for me.”_

 

“ _Built for something a lot stronger than you,_ ” Fury retorted.

 

Romanov looked up and Tony followed her eyes, spotting the curly-haired man standing behind another chair who had his arms crossed almost defensively and looked distinctly uncomfortable in his skin. He seemed to feel Tony's eyes on him and met his gaze – Tony gave him a smile that seemed to surprise the scientist, but he focussed back on the screen too quickly to properly see Banner's reaction. He'd talk to the man later, definitely, but right now, he needed to find out what was up with Loki.

 

“ _Oh, I've heard. The mindless beast, makes play he's still a man,”_ Loki sneered and from the corner of his eye, Tony could see Banner flinch. The pictures from the file flashed in his mind and he grimaced in sympathy. Loki had always had a talent for hitting sore spots. _“How desperate are you to call upon such lost creatures to defend you?”_

 

“ _How_ d _esperate am I?”_ Fury repeated. “ _You threaten my world with war, you steal a force you can't hope to control, you talk about peace and kill cause it's fun – you've made me very desperate.”_ Tony forgot to breathe for a moment. He hadn't liked this from the beginning, but _this_? He glanced around the table for explanation, but the others were all too focussed on their screens to notice him. “ _You might not be glad that you did.”_

 

“ _Oh,_ ” Loki made as if he had suddenly come to understand something. “ _It burns you to come so close. To have the Tesseract, to have power, unlimited power. And for what? A warm light for all mankind to share and then to be reminded what_ real _power is.”_

 

There was a pause with the fallen prince's words echoing through the room, then Fury responded: “ _Well, let me know if Real Power wants a magazine or something_.”

 

The feed cut out when the director turned to leave the room and it hung over them all heavily; Tony stared at where the screen had been with wide eyes as he tried to keep his shock from showing. He _needed_ to know what had happened, now more than ever.

 

“He really grows on you, doesn't he?” Banner remarked eventually.

 

“Loki's gonna drag this out. So, Thor, what's his play?” the Captain demanded now that the spell seemed to be broken.

 

Thor, who had been staring down at the table where the video feed had been, looked up to meet the other's eyes. “He has an army,” he said.

 

“Okay, stop.” Tony straightened himself, spread his arms. “I've been playing this guessing game long enough, I think I deserve to know what's going on. Even _you_ know more than I do, Thor, and we've arrived here together. Is it so much to ask for to know what the _fuck_ is going wrong here?!” The last bit had been yelled and the thunderer glared as he turned towards the inventor.

 

“You would do well to know your place, Anthony,” he snapped and Tony could feel the surprised glances of the others on him, but he was fed up with the bullshit here.

 

“I know my place,” he hissed, rounding the table to approach Thor. “This is my world, this is where you are the guest and not me.”

 

“You are not one of them any longer,” the god reminded him and Tony clenched his fists. He did _not_ want to have this discussion in front of the others, but he wasn't going to cower in front of Thor because of that.

 

“Maybe I'm not,” he agreed, “but I'm not one of yours either, am I? I'm not on Asgard, Thor, you can't tell me what to do, not here. I'm in on this as much as you are, so fucking tell me what the hell is going on!”

 

He gritted his teeth, refusing to flinch under the prince's glare. After a few seconds, Thor turned away and for a moment, Tony thought he was going to ignore him, but then he explained, directed at the whole group: “That army I was speaking of, they are called the Chitauri. They are from another world – not Asgard, but a different realm unknown to us. Loki wants to lead them into battle against you, I presume as a payment for the Tesseract.”

 

“An army. From space.” Rogers' incredulous voice sounded distant and Tony could feel himself growing pale, fingers clenching around the seat he was standing behind. God, no, this was wrong on so many levels. He couldn't – this couldn't be right, this wasn't Loki. Thor had to know that, right? He'd grown up with the black-haired god, he would see that this was nothing like him.

 

Banner joined in: “That means he's building another portal. That's what he needs Erik Selvig for.”

 

“Selvig?” Thor repeated with a frown.

 

Tony tried to follow the conversation – he couldn't have a panic attack, not here, not now. Not in front of them. He needed to figure this out, he needed to know what was behind all this because there was something they were missing, there had to be.

 

With half a mind, he listened and learned that Loki was brainwashing people – could that be what had happened to him? The strange blue colour of his eyes returned to Tony's mind as he swallowed.

 

“That guy's brain is a bag full of cats,” Banner said somewhere. “You could _smell_ crazy on him.”

 

Tony's head snapped up, but before he could say something, Thor had stepped forward and warned: “Have care how you speak. Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard and he is my brother.”

 

“He killed eighty people in two days,” Romanov interjected and Tony felt sick. He needed to get out of here.

 

It didn't help that Thor hesitated and then added carefully: “He is adopted.”

 

“Aren't you one hell of a loyal brother,” Tony hissed venomously. He swallowed back the nausea burning in his throat and tried to call up on the resolve that had brought him through the past few months. He hadn't given up then, he wasn't going to let this beat him. He was going to find out how this could happen, but before that, he was going to stop Loki.

 

_Stop Loki_ . It felt so wrong to even think that, but it was for the prince's best – he wasn't himself, Thor must have seen that, and they could stop this before it started and then figure out what was wrong, what was the source of the problem.

 

“This is something technical,” Banner remarked as if he had read Tony's thoughts. “What does he need Iridium for? To build another portal?”

 

“How'd he get the Iridium in the first place?” Tony asked, determined to get his head back in the game. As much as he hated it, they needed to take care of the symptoms here and then they could move to the source of the problem – and he was certain that Loki was just another part of something bigger here.

 

Romanov replied: “Remember how I said he brainwashed one of us? That was agent Barton. They crashed a high class event in Stuttgart and, long story short, managed to get what they needed to get into the storage facility. I can get you the video feeds later.”

 

“Please do,” Tony nodded. “Barton? The Hawkeye fellow?”

 

He could see her tense. “Yes,” she answered curtly. “The  _Hawkeye fellow_ .” 

 

“Alright,” he nodded. “And you said he wanted to open another portal, so I'm assuming he came here through one, right?”

 

“He did,” the agent confirmed. “It was a lot smaller than what he'd need, though, and collapsed right afterwards. No way he's getting an army through that.”

 

“So he needs something to stabilise it,” Tony mused, continuing the train of thought. “And the Tesseract is an incredibly strong source of energy, but nobody is sure how to really harness it. If Loki wants to start drawing from it's energy, he'll need a power source, a high energy density, something to basically kick-start the Cube. ”

 

“How do _you_ know that?” Banner asked with honest curiosity in his tone. 

 

“I've done some reading while I was away,” Tony responded non-committally, remembering the afternoons in the library with Loki while they were searching for something to replace the reactor that was poisoning him.

 

The Captain interrupted his thoughts by asking: “Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?”

 

“He's got to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier,” Banner pointed out, and oh yes, Tony liked the man already.

 

Walking towards him, he took over: “That is, unless Selvig has figured out how to stabilise the quantum tunneling effect. I'm not quite up to date on that, but wasn't he working on that a while ago?”

 

“He was,” the other scientist confirmed. “And if he could do that, he could achieve Heavy Ion Fusion at _any_ reactor on the planet.”

 

By now, Tony had rounded the table and stretched his hand out to Banner, who shook it in a dry, firm grip as Tony exclaimed: “Finally, somebody who speaks English. You know, doctor Banner, had anybody told me that you'd be here, I would have fixed my hair. Are you still writing those amazing papers about anti-electron collisions? Oh, and I've seen the file. The, you know, green rage monster thing is awesome, too.”

 

The scientist chuckled awkwardly, muttering his thanks, and his eyes flicked over Tony's attire – he was still wearing the Asgardian clothing, it wasn't like he'd had much time to change, and the inventor remembered that when he had left Midgard, his hair had always been cut relatively short. Now, it was long enough that he kept it tied with a leather band on the back of his head so it wouldn't fall into his eyes. Plus, there was the scar on his cheek that he'd grown so used to by now; he really didn't look much like the man who had sold weapons here just a few years ago.

 

“Doctor Banner is only here to track the cube,” Fury said, striding into the room. Again with the dramatic leather coat thing. He had _totally_ practised that in front of a mirror.

 

“Well,” Tony said loudly to the room at large, “I'll need a computer, maybe a lab, then I might be able to help you with all this.”

 

“I've got a lab,” Banner told him. “Plus I have the sceptre that Loki used to brainwash Barton and Selvig.”

 

“And you're telling me that _now_?” Tony demanded. “We need to work on the communications here, honestly. Anyway, is there anything you lot need me for or can I go and do science?”

 

“Actually,” Romanov said, “I think we would all like to know how exactly you came to be here. You were proclaimed dead ages ago.”

 

The inventor crossed his arms and rested them on the back of a chair, trying to go for nonchalance. “It's sort of a long story,” he said and she cocked her head, green eyes fixing him with a look that seemed to see right through him. Had they met under other circumstances, Tony was sure she would have gotten along fantastically with Loki.

 

Before she could ask about his cryptic phrasing, Thor supplied: “Anthony is my brother's personal slave.”

 

Tony flinched.  _Yes, thank you Thor, that's helping_ , he thought sarcastically. He needed these people to trust him if he was supposed to work with them. “Again, I'm  _not_ a slave anymore, Thor,” he snapped. “And I –”

 

“So you were a slave, yes?” Romanov interrupted. Her voice was perfectly level and Tony met her eyes to try and get a read on her, but her expression gave nothing away. Fury stood a few steps behind her, silent but watching with interest.

 

With a glare towards Thor, he admitted: “I was. But Loki wasn't like that, he would never – he didn't act like my other...”  _Owners,_ he thought, but couldn't bring himself to say the word. Instead, he finished lamely: “It's not as bad as it sounds.”

 

She had her forearms on the table now, leaning in his direction as she inquired: “He wasn't holding you prisoner, then.”

 

“No, of course not!” Tony protested. What right did she even have to ask? It didn't concern her what had happened to him.

 

“So if you had asked to go home, he would have let you, yes?” she prodded further. Tony took a small step back, fingers drumming nervously on his arm.

 

_Loki leaning over his desk, Freyja's letter in his hand, after Tony had told him that the materials he needed were back on Earth. “You could have thought of something better, couldn't you? I am not letting you go, Anthony.”_

 

“Not... as such...” he replied slowly. “But he never – you need to understand this, he wasn't... this isn't how he normally is, he's not a bad person. There needs to be something behind this, he never did anything that...”

 

“Mr Stark,” she cut him off, her voice soft, almost scarily gentle, “do you know what the 'Stockholm Syndrome' is?”

 

Tony laughed incredulously, although it sounded almost hysterical even to his own ears. “Come on, don't be ridiculous. I don't – that's not even the question here, is it? This is about Loki, not me, so drop it. It's none of your business.” He bit his tongue before he could say anything more and rocked back on his heels. His heart was pounding in his throat and he was digging his fingers into his arms hard enough to hurt even through the tunic to hide the shaking of his hands.

 

Romanov, however, wasn't done yet. “What kind of services does _personal slave_ entail? Assuming you were one once?”

 

“I said _stop it_!” Tony snapped, louder than he had intended. “If you're asking if Loki– he didn't, alright? He never did anything against my will, he never – he just didn't, okay?”

 

“He didn't keep you in Asgard against your will either?”

 

Tony was aware that he was breathing too quickly; his vision was greying out, becoming Aesir had done nothing against panic attacks. No matter what he said now, she was going to twist it around and use it against him; forget court, this was so much worse.

 

“I think you've had your fun now,” he managed shakily. “If you'll excuse me.”

 

With that, he turned on his heel and fled the room in the direction he had come from (he heard a chair scraping over the floor and someone muttering “let him calm down”), down a hallway and past the agents that barely paid any attention to him, minding their own business. Unlike their red-headed colleague. The adrenaline in his veins screamed at him to run, but he couldn't risk that – there weren't as many people about as he had expected, but still, running would make him look suspicious and he couldn't use that right now.

 

When he could sort of breathe again, he paid more attention to his surroundings, slowing down his pace so it looked more like he was purposefully searching for something than fleeing. When he spotted an agent leaving a room labelled _Surveillance_ , not too far from where he had started out, he slipped past him through the door before it could slide shut completely.

 

One thing about secret bases was that the people were so full of themselves they didn't believe for a second that someone could be there who didn't belong – or in Tony's case, what would someone with that clothing do with a computer?

 

“Bingo,” he whispered when he found himself in a room devoid of people, the walls lit up with screens and various security feeds from all over the Helicarrier. In one picture, he could spot Romanov holding doctor Banner back with a hand on his arm; the scientist was looking in the direction Tony had disappeared to.

 

Another screen showed Loki, pacing his cell restlessly. Tony stared at the image for a few seconds, the approached one of the keyboards and went to work.

 

Ten minutes later, he left the room, his hands no longer shaking and the panic attack that had been threatening to overtake him pushed to the back of his mind. He had something to concentrate on now, something to distract him from the uncomfortable feeling that Romanov's questions had stirred up.

 

_Stockholm Syndrome. Ha._

 

With a shake of his head, he rounded another corner and entered a corridor with two guards standing on either sides of the door at its end.

 

“Excuse me,” he called out as he approached them. “I've been sent in to talk to the prisoner. We were friends back up there, they thought he might tell me something.”

 

The two guards, a man and a woman, exchanged a brief glance before she spoke up: “We weren't told about anyone coming in, I'll have to check that with the director.”

 

Tony sighed, coming to a halt in front of her. “Sure, go ahead.” As soon as she took one hand of her weapon to reach for the comm unit in her ear, he surged forward and wrenched the rifle out of her hand, spinning to hit the back of her head with it before he aimed at the second guard. He looked ridiculously young and had jumped, startled, but was now pointing his own gun at Tony with a determined expression. “Down, boy,” Tony commanded almost gently. “Even if you shoot faster than me, trust me, you're not going to stop me with one bullet.”

 

_Bless Fandral's hand-to-hand-training._

 

He wasn't actually going to shoot the kid, no way, but the threat seemed to work; slowly, the young agent crouched down to place his gun on the floor. As soon as his fingers left it, Tony knocked him out too and checked that he stayed down before he entered the code that he had found out by rewinding the security tape before. The door opened with a hiss and he threw the rifle down as he saw that it was empty safe for a glass cell.

 

“Hello, Loki,” he greeted blankly as he skipped up the steps towards the control panel he had seen Fury use before. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the god turning in surprise.

 

“Anthony? What are you doing here?” For the first time, his voice almost sounded the way that Tony was used to. There was surprise in his tone and something almost reproachful, like he was going to tell him off for stepping out of line. Ha.

 

“I've put a loop in the security feed both in here and in the hallway so unless they've been keeping tabs on me the whole time, which I think they're too busy for, nobody should figure out where I am too quickly,” he answered, eyes flickering over the controls.

 

“You didn't answer my question,” Loki reminded him warily.

 

Tony rolled his eyes and then turned towards the prince, spreading his arms to indicate the room.

 

“What does it look like, you genius? I'm busting you out.”

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some questions are answered, a lot of them... are not. Sound familiar? Because it seems to become a pattern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya there! First of all (this is getting to be a habit), I want to apologise for my long absence and thank all of you who bear with me – your comments and reviews keep me going, they always make my day ^.^
> 
> Secondly, well, there was a reason this took so long, and I'm afraid that no matter how much I kept twisting and turning the chapter, it wouldn't quite do what I wanted it to. I do hope I don't disappoint you, anyway.
> 
> That's it from me. Have fun!

“You are doing what?” 

Tony looked up from the controls, eyebrows raised. He tried to not let Loki's look of utter incredulity (finally something other than that distant, cold mask) derail him as he replied: “Busting you out. Freeing you. Making a break for it. High-tail it the fuck out of here. Any of that ring any bells? Because I am not staying here one minute longer and trust me, neither are you.” 

Loki stared a second longer, then started to pace, running a hand through his matted hair. “But you – you don't understand,” he said in a voice that was almost frantic, “you can't – Anthony, this is your world, these are your people. What do you think you're doing?” 

Again, the inventor stopped in his doings and looked up, leaning against the control panel as he pointed at Loki. “See, that's exactly the thing. You're not making any sense. What kind of villain are you supposed to be, trying to stop people from helping you? You don't have to be here and we both know that.” He gestured towards the door he had come through. “See, they don't trust me, and while it pisses me off, to some degree I do understand that. But what I don't understand is why are you here?”

There was just the briefest flicker of hesitation before Loki drew himself up and began: “I am going to claim this world as my own, as was my birth ri–“

“Oh, come on,” Tony interrupted and didn't resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Nobody's watching us, so cut that bullshit. You know, they may not trust me up there, but I have eyes. I saw some of the footage the other agents had running while I did my reading on the team, and that stunt in Stuttgart? Really, Loki? I know you occasionally have a thing for drama, but if you really hadn't wanted people to find out what you were doing, nobody would've found out. You could've caught that guy in a quiet moment – by the way, an eyeball? Ew – somewhere else or just have shape-shifted and for all I know, that might've been enough for the retinal scanner to let you through, no fuss.”

He raised a finger to stop anything that Loki might have wanted to remark from being said. “But,” he continued, “and here's the thing, even if you weren't here on your own volition, assuming that you actually did get hit over the head really hard and all that wasn't intentional. You could have been out of here hours ago. You can teleport. Since you didn't do that, I'm assuming that there's a reason for it.”

Loki sighed – honest to god stood there in his cell, sighing in something that seemed like frustrated annoyance. Then, he stood a bit taller, approaching the glass and putting a hand to it as he responded: “As a matter of fact, yes, there is an ulterior motive for this. There is a reason I am here and you, dear Anthony, are about to bloody ruin it!” 

Tony couldn't help it. He laughed. Well, snickered, more like. “Pity, isn't it?” he asked gleefully. “But you know, you do have a point. This is my world, these are my people, and as much as I love –” He stumbled over the word and continued with only the slightest hitch in his sentence. “...having you back, I'm not about to sit by and watch this.”

“But you don't understand!” Loki began again. 

“Yes, you've said that already,” the inventor nodded and with a final flick of the control panel, the door to the cell unlocked with a hiss. “Now, I think we have somewhere to be.”

Just in that moment, a tremor ran through the whole room and Tony stumbled, struggling to stay on his feet. He saw Loki's disbelieving expression vanish as it was replaced by a wide, manic grin and suddenly, the blue eyes fixed on Tony seemed a lot more unsettling than just a moment before. Stepping out of the cell, Loki commented: “Ah, and that would be my ride. If you don't mind, Anthony, you were right, I have somewhere to be.”

Tony hurried to stand in front of him, steadying himself on the railing beside him, and demanded: “Hold on a minute, what the hell is going on? Loki, what have you done?” He reached out with one hand and grabbed Loki's upper arm tightly so the god wouldn't be able to just teleport away. 

Loki just gave him that same, unsettling, un-Loki-like smile again as he asked: “Wouldn't you like to know?”

The inventor gritted his teeth. It was really, really tiring that everybody kept treating him like he was either fragile, an idiot or a threat. From SHIELD, alright, but Loki? This was getting ridiculous. He tightened his grip on the god's leather-clad arm and replied with false calm: “Yes, yes I would.” 

For a moment, Loki looked at him with his head tilted contemplatively, then he nodded. With another smile that was definitely not soothing at all, he conceded: “Alright, then.” Before Tony could react to that in any way, the prince's fingers were pressed against his temples and Tony felt his knees give out from under him before he lost consciousness.

~*~

He woke up later with no idea about how much time had passed. His head was pounding and he felt nauseous, like after a particularly rough teleportation (was that what had happened?), and the constant vibrations didn't help the matter either.

Tony put a conscious effort into not frowning as he tried to make sense of his surroundings without giving away that he was no longer sleeping. He could hear the low whir of engines and he seemed to be sitting up, strapped into a seat not unlike those on the quinjet before. And that would be my ride, Loki's voice echoed in his head. Had the prince gotten his hands on one of the 'jets? 

To his left, he could make out the low murmur of voices too quiet for him to understand, but apart from that, nobody spoke. He'd have recognised Loki's voice immediately. 

Since it was unlikely that Loki was going to murder him if he hadn't done it already (and when had Loki murdering him become a possible, not improbable outcome for any kind of scenario?), Tony slowly opened his eyes. He had been right, he was on the inside of a quinjet or something very similar – he had some serious catching up to do. Two years ago, he would have been able to tell the model and build year with a quick glance, and now... well, he was two years behind on everything. And for someone who had used to be two years ahead of everybody else, ten in Hammer's case (was Justin Hammer still – oh God, now that Stark Industries was no longer pushed by Tony's mind, had Hammer taken his place on the market? Surely some benevolent deity would have prevented that?), that was insanely frustrating. 

He blinked a few times, zeroing in on Loki who sat opposite him with a sceptre draped over his lap, fingers curled around it tightly and eyes shut. Apparently, he hadn't taken notice of Tony waking up yet, and since the only other people on board were the two in the cockpit, neither had anyone else. 

Not that that helped him much. It wasn't like he could jump off the 'jet, after all. Still, right in this moment, he wasn't being observed and that gave him the opportunity to sort his thoughts and try to figure out what to do next. What to do about Loki – Loki threatening his world, Loki kidnapping him, Loki and his eerie blue eyes. 

One problem at a time, he reminded himself. Let's start with the whole kidnapping issue. While he had established that it wasn't going to be possible to leave just yet, he could at least do something for his level of comfort. With quick, nimble fingers, Tony unbuckled the belts holding him in place. The only way to look outside the quinjet was from the cockpit and telling the pilots he was up and about was probably not a good idea, but if he just got up and caught a glimpse...

Just when Tony had gingerly risen from his seat and was heading towards the cockpit with silent steps, a sound from behind him made him jump and whirl around in time to see Loki dropping the sceptre as though it had burned his fingers. He was looking around with wide eyes like after a bad dream and the blue colour in them was more eerie than ever, practically glowing until he squinted a few times, exhaling a harsh breath, and looked up at Tony. 

The startled look on his face was the most vulnerable and the most sincere expression that Tony had seen on him since he had returned to Midgard, which was probably why he dared to turn fully and trace his steps back towards the prince, casually kicking the sceptre out of the way. Loki's eyes followed it with an unreadable expression and the cold mask that he had worn before slid back into place as he demanded sharply: “What do you think you are doing?” 

Refusing to let that discourage him, the inventor flashed him a grin that was more confident than he felt. “That was my question to you, in case you don't remember it. You kidnapped me.” 

“You freed me!” Loki snapped back accusingly. 

“Oh my god, I'm sorry!” Tony responded sarcastically, throwing his arms up. “So what? You attacked my planet!”

“Exactly!” the prince shot back. “This is not how you were supposed to behave!”

“How well do you know me, Loki?” Tony asked, bending down to be on eye-level with the still sitting Loki. “Did you actually expect me to do the sane thing and start working against you when there's even a sliver of hope that I'm getting you back? Did you?” He splayed a hand over Loki's chest, pushing until the prince was leaning back against the wall. “'cause if you did, that's seriously a little disappointing. I'd go so far as to call it insulting. You know me, Lokes, or at least you used to, I'm not so sure about it now. You know that fancy words and epic speeches are more your area of expertise than mine, but I'm smart and I'm stubborn and I'm not letting this go until I get what I want. You're stuck with me, buddy. You've been from the moment that you shoved that damn apple down my throat.” 

And for a second, a split-second, Tony swore that he could catch a flicker of green in Loki's wide eyes, gone as quickly as it had appeared. It didn't really matter that Loki shoved him back with a snarl afterwards – Tony was still grinning triumphantly as he stumbled back onto his seat while the prince unfastened his seatbelts with a vigour that would make anyone think he held a personal grudge against them. With a glare towards Tony, he picked up the sceptre and then made his way towards the cockpit.

The inventor crossed his arms, leaning back as he allowed himself to revel in the small victory. Not only had he left Loki without anything to say for once, no, he was absolutely sure now that his prince was still in there, underneath layers of leather armour and cold blue eyes. 

There was some hope left and that was all he needed to go on right now.

Which left him with the question of how exactly he was supposed to go on now, but he was going to figure that out as he went. Loki was still up front, muttering with the pilots, and Tony craned his neck to see something through the window. It was still day (or again?) and they were above a city, but he'd be damned if he knew which one it was. Something large, full of skyscrapers and cramped streets – New York? 

As if he had been reading his mind, Loki turned and gave him a confident smile. The fake, taunting kind that seemed to be default since he had come down here. Gesturing towards the hatch, the prince asked: “Would you like to see where we are going? I feel like it might interest you.” 

“Do you now?” Tony asked back warily. He tried to sound not as nervously eager and curious as he felt when he continued: “I suppose it would be rude to decline an offer like that, so go ahead.”

Of course, Loki saw right through that, but aside from a raised eyebrow and a twitch of his smile, he didn't call him out on it. Instead, he opened the hatch and Tony got up from his seat, searching for a hold on the walls so the wind wouldn't make him lose his footing. When he was level with Loki, he blinked against the gust of air greeting him until he could make out the building beneath them.

“Son of a whore,” he blurted out. “Fucking piece of shit, I can't believe it.” From the corner of his eye, he caught the prince's expression; he seemed a little taken aback, so Tony added: “Not you. I'm getting to you later. I mean that pretentious son of a bitch.” He put as much venom into his words as he could manage because he feared that if he didn't, he was going to cry, or throw up, or possibly both.

Beneath the quinjet, quickly growing closer, was a large, ugly grey skyscraper – which, in New York, wouldn't be that much of a problem if not for the four letters proudly flaunting themselves from the very top. 

“It even sounds shitty,” Tony said more faintly than he'd like. “I mean, who would want to work at a Stane Tower? That just... sounds wrong.” Especially since he had been thinking about a Stark Tower, sometime in the future, maybe. He definitely liked the sound of that better. “How'd he even keep the company going without me? It sure wasn't his genius.” 

His hand was clenched hard around the handle he was clinging to and he feebly told himself that he was leaning against the wall because the wind was bad for his balance. That was all there was to it. 

Of course he'd known that the world was going to keep turning without him and it was going to do so with Obadiah Stane in it, but up until now, the problem had been... distant. Not enough of a threat to unsettle Tony, not as long as he didn't actively think of the man or was waking up from a nightmare starring his former mentor. In this moment, Obie had become an all too real element again. 

Tony wanted to be back on Asgard.

But that wasn't the way he did things, was it? He didn't get scared and turned to run. He would never have gotten where he was now, for better or for worse, had he not taken risks and faced challenges. Back then, when he had picked him from the cold planet full of alien Hobbits, Loki had started piecing him back together and although he hadn't been there all the way, Tony had grown better. He may not be who he had been before, wasn't ever going to be that man again, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Maybe a change had been in order anyway – he had, in the long weeks that he had spent in Afghanistan before Obie had had him dragged out of the cave, caught sight of his own weapons piled up in a terrorist camp. Obviously, something must have gone wrong there.

And oh god, Afghanistan. He had been gone from Earth for nearly two years; was Yinsen still there? Somewhere in a cave in the mountains? 

There was too much that needed doing here. He couldn't freeze up or run away, he would just have to start somewhere.

Preferably by blowing up Stane Tower. 

“So you felt like this might interest me, yeah?” he asked Loki, tearing his eyes away from the building below once again. “How's that, then?”

The question didn't seem to be what the prince expected – honestly, he used to know Tony so much better, this was getting ridiculous – and he cocked his head as he looked at Tony as if to try and figure him out somehow instead of just explaining, because that would have been too easy. No, he just stared at Tony with those creepy blue eyes of his as if the inventor had all the answers. He was the one who'd asked, dammit. 

“Yes, how is that?” he repeated in a low murmur. After a few seconds, he just turned away again to stare down at the rapidly approaching roof of the ugly-as-hell-building.

Tony scoffed in disbelief. “Well, gee thanks. That was helpful.” He watched Loki while the quinjet descended and spoke up after another few beats of silence: “Don't you think it would be a good idea to wait with this whole world domination business until you're making sense again? I mean, no offence, but you sort of look like you don't know what you're doing half of the time. Not exactly the perfect conditions for a ruler. Just saying.”

Loki, who had apparently shaken himself out of whatever thoughts had caused the previous faraway look on his face, turned towards Tony with a raised eyebrow. Ah. The sass was back. “Is that the best you could come up with to keep me from subjugating this miserable race?” he asked, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm. “I'm afraid you will have to do better than that.” 

The inventor threw his arms up. “Oh, come on,” he snapped. “Have you listened to yourself? I was watching your little speech to Fury before and now this. There was literally no subtlety or finesse in that. What happened, did you get hit over the head? How stupid do you think humans are? You're either acting like a complete dimwit on purpose or there's something behind this I don't understand yet, but either way, Lokes, whatever the hell you're trying to accomplish, it's not gonna work this way. You are severely underestimating us if you think this will work out for you. I mean, have you seen that team?” And okay, that was said with more confidence than he actually felt towards that ragtag team of spies and geniuses (read: Banner) that Fury seemed to have assembled there, but Loki didn't need to know that.

Anyway, the god didn't seem particularly fazed by Tony's little speech. He just hefted his sceptre more tightly and, after the 'jet settled on the ground with a thud, gestured for the engineer to walk down the opened hatch. 

“Go on,” he urged. “You'll understand soon.” 

“Well, thanks a lot, Captain Cryptic,” Tony muttered under his breath. “Subjugating this miserable race, oh please. Should've recorded that so I can play it to you as soon as you're back in your right mind. You'll be embarrassed, just wait for it.” He wasn't sure if Loki picked his murmurs up, but if he did, the god showed no reaction.

Tony firmly pushed the ever-present dread pooling in his stomach down; it had not been getting better since he had set foot on his own planet again and to be frank, it wasn't helpful in the least. He glanced around in the open space and resisted the childish urge to stamp his foot on the roof (because Stane Tower, really? That asshole) while he surveyed his surroundings. 

There was something built up on the roof that looked like the bastard love child of technology and magic, with the glowy cube of science mumbo-jumbo right in the middle of the contraption, emanating a blue-ish glow that sent a shudder down Tony's spine as he got closer. The light had the same shade as Loki's eyes. And the sceptre, come to think of it. The inventor narrowed his eyes at the weapon suspiciously, then met the god's blue gaze. 

Loki looked, in a strange way, expectant. Filled with trepidation, but apparently hoping for a special sort of reaction from Tony. Just out of spite, the engineer kept his features carefully blank, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“So?” he asked challengingly. He tried not to let the thoughts racing each other in his mind sound in his voice, instead sounding cool and distant. “And now what? If you were waiting for a dramatic moment of revelation that involved me fainting like the heroine in some romance novel, sorry, buddy. Not quite in the mood.” 

While he let his mouth run, he tried to piece together what he was seeing. He knew that Loki was able to control people in some way or another, after all, he had managed to compromise Barton in some way; however, nobody had said that Loki was not acting under somebody else's thumb, either. Tony had no idea what had happened to the prince during the year he had been under the radar, but Loki didn't look good. Not at all. Even though he seemed to have recovered from when he'd first arrived, he was still pale with dark shadows under his eyes and his usually neat hair was still slicked back in greasy strands, not to mention its length. 

If Loki was controlling people, who said that somebody wasn't maybe controlling Loki, too?

He watched the god's expression fall when Tony didn't react the way he had apparently expected, whatever that might have entailed. Loki's eyes flickered to the concrete surface of the roof for a moment, then came back up to meet Tony's and his grip on the sceptre tightened surreptitiously. 

“Shame,” murmured the prince. “Then I shall help you understand.” 

Determinedly, he raised the sceptre, which glowed a brighter colour than just moments before. Tony's eyes widened and he took a few hasty steps back, hands raised.

“Whoa there, tiger, no need to go straight to biting,” he babbled while backing away. “I'm sure we can talk about this, I mean, I don't know how school works on Asgard, but down here, when we want someone to get something, we usually try explaining. With words. So put that thing down and we –”

Loki simply talked over him. “I know it can be hard to comprehend the right course,” he said benevolently. “I struggled at first, too. But it will be so much easier to understand once you've seen, Anthony, let me help you see.” 

“Yeah, no, thanks,” Tony declined with a grimace, casting a look over his shoulder to make sure he didn't tumble over the edge of the roof on accident. After all he'd lived through, that would be quite an embarrassing way to go. “Use your words.” 

The god, however, had used his brief moment of distraction and seized him by his tunic, yanking him forward. He pulled the other arm with the sceptre back and Tony's eyes widened, fixed on the sharp tip that was pointed toward him; for a moment, he expected the prince to simply plunge it through his chest like the medieval weapon it was. He tried to pull Loki's hand away with both of his own, but the prince's grip was relentless. 

With a surprisingly anti-climatic clink, the terrifyingly pointy tip of the sceptre hit the cover glass of the arc reactor, covered only by the fabric of the green tunic. The gem in its middle glowed brightly and Loki frowned for a moment, opened his mouth like he wanted to say something.

He stopped, his eyes growing large, and Tony's brain had just managed to catch up far enough for him to try to ask what is it now? when a pulse of not-quite-pain shot through his chest and turned the words into a startled, mangled shout. The blue of the sceptre glowed more brightly, but the colour was subdued by the flash of green, wrapping around it like tendrils of smoke. Tony was not sure whether the prickling feeling he was experiencing could be described by a word as simple as pain; he stared down at his chest incredulously. 

The distinct smell of burnt fabric filled the air, apparently emanating from his own tunic, which was curling and smoking like burning paper, starting at the arc reactor. That was enough to pull him out of his stunned paralysis; he staggered away from Loki, who had stopped holding on to him and was staring with similar disbelief. 

Suddenly, he dropped the sceptre like it had scorched his fingers and staggered backwards as well, away from the weapon.

Tony was struggling out of his tunic, which was still smoking disturbingly, and gritted his teeth against the pain (yes, it was definitely pain now) that was caused by the reactor's rim having gone hot suddenly; mercifully, not hot enough to actually cause burns, but enough to be definitely unpleasant, especially since there was no way for him to get away from the feeling.

“What the fuck was that supposed to be?” he snapped as soon as he had thrown the garment to the ground. No-one but Loki and Selvig were there to see him anyway. “I'm no expert in creepy-ass-sceptre-science, but I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to do that. Then again, they do have studies down here about performance issues, nothing to be ashamed of. Actually, I've read that one out of five...”

He trailed off when Loki looked up at him, eyes wide and startled and impossibly green. 

Tony stared, mutely, for a few seconds, before he managed to ask hoarsely: “Lokes?”

Carefully, as though his affirmation might reverse whatever had happened just now, Loki nodded. “I do think so, yes,” he answered slowly. 

Tony did not break eye contact while he gingerly approached, kicking the sceptre out of the way as he went. He stopped at a safe distance about two arm's lengths away from the god, staring up at him. It hadn't been a trick of the light like he had feared in the first few seconds; his eyes were really, honestly back to their strange shade of emerald, shifting and changing in tone with the light, but undoubtedly green. 

Had Tony been more apt with words than he was, he would definitely have said something touching and moving right there, something to welcome Loki back to himself and express his will to forgive and help the god as long as he finally got to understand what had been going wrong in the first place.

As it was, though, he was simply quiet for some incredibly long seconds and then said firmly: “You bastard.”

Loki beamed at him.

“Oh yes,” he said, a slightly manic (but more familiar) glitter in his eyes. “I believe I have some things to sort out. Shall we?” 

Incredulously, Tony gaped at him. “Seriously? After all this, you expect me to just go along with you and clean up your mess with you? Is that it?” 

The prince paused, sheepishly. “It is rather urgent, I am afraid...” he said slowly, glancing over at Selvig, who was still working on the device without paying much attention to them. “But afterwards...”

“Oh, shut up,” Tony waved him off. “Afterwards. Yeah, that's helpful.” He gritted his teeth angrily. “I'm in. This is my home planet, of course I'm in. But I hope you're aware that you owe me a fucking bunch of explanations. We on the same page there?” 

It was incredible, how Loki expected him to go on like nothing had changed. Tony wasn't quite sure he believed this yet; somehow, it had felt too easy. He was waiting for a catch, for the other shoe to drop. Loki couldn't simply be himself again, just like that, because what the hell had that even been? The rim of the reactor still felt unpleasantly warm, even with the cold wind on top of the building that made everything else freezing cold. 

“We are,” Loki agreed, but didn't move. He was staring at Tony (green eyes, Tony couldn't help but check again and again) with some measure of hesitance, fingers now empty of his spear and clasped in front of him, wringing together. 

It was a tell of nervousness more obvious than Tony had ever seen on him, and alright, maybe he wasn't quite as back-to-normal as it seemed on first glance. But they had definitely taken a step into the right direction, unless he was falling for some trick here. Tony returned the look, rocking on the balls of his feet and shuddering in the cold wind. He glanced mournfully at the smouldering tunic behind him, then over at Selvig, still tinkering without paying attention to the two of them.

His eyes flickered back up to meet Loki's and the prince took a careful step closer. Tony exhaled shakily and closed the distance between them, throwing his arms around Loki's shoulders and burying his face in the crook of the god's neck. For this moment, he even managed to ignore the cold feeling of leather on his skin and the metal bits of the armour digging into his torso; it was all worth it for the feeling of Loki's arms wrapping tightly around him and the prince dropping his head to Tony's shoulder. 

If this was a ploy, then he was walking right into it and as much as he hated to admit it, he really couldn't care less.

I'm going to kiss him, and then I'm going to punch him, Tony vowed silently to himself. For now, though, this was all he needed. After thinking Loki dead, lost forever, for so long, it had been hard to believe that he was still there; and even then, it had been in a distorted, power-hungry parody of the prince he had gotten to know. 

Now it felt even harder to believe that, in some way that Loki would definitely need to explain to him (just not... just not right now), he had his Loki back, his very own god, and the almost painful tightness of their embrace seemed to be the only thing able to ground him to that fact and make him truly, really believe it.

Then, of course, Loki simply had to speak up.

“Anthony?” he murmured, not moving from his position.

“Mh-hm?” made Tony against his neck.

There was a sort of embarrassed pause. After a few beats, Loki muttered: “When I said I had an army? I wasn't lying. They really are on their way.” Tony pulled back to stare at him, then at Selvig and the device, and the sceptre laying on the roof. Loki looked almost sheepish. “I'm afraid I truly cannot stop them now.” 

Of course, he told him that after he had gotten his hug. Tony pursed his lips and, not even really addressing Loki, but the world in general, proclaimed: “Son of a bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This does not mean the two of them have sorted out all their issues. They still have a looong way to go. But I really didn't want to leave them without at least a hug.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sky had been torn open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, it's been a while, but better than last time, eh? (Yeees, I'm sorry. ) I hope you like this chapter because writing it has been sort of a weird up and down and there might be some mistakes in here - if you notice any, please don't hesitate to point them out to me! :)

The sky had been torn open.

 

Tony had seen a lot of magic in the past few years, but this was enough to make him freeze and stare in horrified fascination. The sight was both terrifying and – he couldn't bring himself to call it beautiful, this was his former home at stake after all, so he settled on impressive.

 

That was, of course, until the aliens started pouring through. From then on, it was most definitely more terrifying than anything else, making him acutely aware that he was standing on top of Stane fucking Tower, shirtless and without any sort of shelter, about to face an invasion. Right.

 

“Loki,” he said, voice rising in alarm, “if you're going to do something about this, right now seems like a good time to start. And I'm gonna need my armour.”

 

The prince seemed to have to tear his eyes away from the sight just as Tony had and glanced first at the inventor, then at the sceptre that laid discarded on the concrete ground of the roof. “There is a way to put an end to this,” he said, slowly, nodding towards Selvig. The scientist was watching the spectacle with wide eyes. “I had him build in a fail-safe. We can stop this, for now. But Thanos...” A poorly suppressed shudder ran through him at the name. “...Thanos is still going to come for Midgard if we can't stop him here. It will simply take him longer.”

 

“But it'll give us time, yeah?” Tony gestured upwards at the swarm of Chitauri, which was getting uncomfortably close. “I'll take the risk of repeating myself, but whatever you plan on doing, I suggest you do it _right now_!”

 

Loki swallowed, then nodded. He stepped closer to Tony, pulled the engineer in with an arm around his shoulders and a moment later, the world dissolved around them with a sensation that was both achingly familiar and still as unsettling as the first time the prince had teleported them.

 

Well, maybe not that bad. The first time had involved crossing an uncomfortably large distance.

 

Still, Tony clutched at Loki's sides purely out of reflex and closed his eyes tightly, his breath leaving him in a rush. In response, Loki's arm tightened around him and pulled him flush against the god's chest. The whole process was over after the span of a few quick heartbeats, but when the world came back into focus around them, Tony was hesitant to step away as he inhaled with a shallow gasp.

 

Loki smelled of blood and sweat and metal; underneath that, however, there was a faint trace of that familiar scent of herbs, leather and something lighter, reminding Tony of a winter morning, which he had always identified as Loki.

 

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

 

He swallowed, his forehead pressed against the cool leather covering Loki's collar bone, and took another breath, deeper this time, before he took a slow, reluctant step back. Granted, it was quite the small step, but at least he wasn't pressed up against the prince anymore.

 

Instead, he now found himself looking up at Loki, which, in retrospect, might even be worse because he had met the other's green eyes (and what a relief it was to see them in that colour) and didn't have it in him to look away. Not just yet. He would, in a moment.

 

The prince's arm had slipped from around his shoulders when he had stepped back, but his hand was still resting there, his thumb stroking absently over the juncture of neck and shoulder, sending a shiver down Tony's spine. His fingers flexed on the leather of Loki's armour, still resting on the god's waist, and Tony swallowed with a deep breath.

 

_Screw it._

 

He stepped closer again, at the same time pulling Loki in, and rose up on his tip-toes to kiss him, because he needed it,  _needed_ –

 

Suddenly, the blaring of an alarm broke the silence, deafening after the stillness from before. Tony jumped in shock and Loki, who had been leaning down, he was  _sure_ of it, straightened abruptly as he stepped back to look around warily. 

 

For the first time, Tony also cast a look around wherever Loki had brought them and raised his eyebrows. He cleared his throat, trying to sound unaffected, and remarked with as much casualness as he could manage: “Now, this is handy. Care to watch the door while I suit up?”

 

Loki looked like he was fighting the urge to clear his throat as well as his eyes flickered over to the entrance of the room. “Not at all,” he replied.

 

_Goddamn fucking hell_ , Tony cursed silently, glaring at the ceiling. Loki had, very usefully, brought them to the Helicarrier – the room he had left his armour in, no less. That was good. That was very good. But for heaven's sake, couldn't they have had like, ten more seconds before the security systems  _somehow_ picked up their presence? Was that  _so_ much to ask for? 

 

“How'd you even know the suit would be here?” he asked, trying for casual, while he hurried toward the armour. Loki's tunic was placed neatly next to it and Tony picked it up, because he sure as hell wasn't going to leave it here.

 

“You placed wards on your armour,” Loki answered. “Runes. On Asgard, there are many of those energies, I probably would not have been able to detect them, but here, they are unique. I was able to– is that my–?”

 

Tony pulled the oversized, dark green tunic with the golden embroidery over his head and pushed the slightly too long sleeves up as he turned toward Loki. He stubbornly fought against the blush threatening to creep up on his cheeks and pointed a finger at the prince, interrupting him: “Don't say it. Seriously. You didn't see anything.” He made a sweeping motion in the air, holding up two fingers. “This isn't the tunic you're looking for.”

 

Loki looked... For lack of another word, Loki looked  _happy_ . Tony didn't give him any credit for his poor attempt to conceal it, because there was a smile very obviously twitching around the corners of his mouth even as he pursed his lips, and it took him a few seconds to tear his eyes away from the tunic to look back up at Tony. He opened his mouth to say something.

 

“Not. A. Word,” Tony cut him off before he was able to voice whatever comment he had come up with. The mischievous, bright sparkle in the god's green eyes as he obediently pressed his lips together, obviously fighting a smile, was so much like the old him it hurt, so the inventor quickly turned toward the suit (after all, there were still some SHIELD minions to worry about) and worked at getting into it.

 

Now that he had technology at his service again, he could think of about a thousand ways to make that process quicker and smoother. Alas, now was really not the time.

 

“So,” he said, while fumbling with the armour, “when you said you'd installed a fail-safe for the portal device of doom or whatever, why didn't we just do that and close the portal right there?”

 

“I need the sceptre for it,” Loki explained, watching with curious interest. “And I would rather not be near the mind gem right now.”

 

“Mind gem meaning the glowy blue thing at the tip?” Tony guessed.

 

“Exactly,” the prince nodded. Tony wasn't sure, but he thought Loki looked a little pale. “Th– he managed to get control over me by getting me to accept it. I am not sure what the effect would be if I were to touch it now.” He hesitated. “I would rather not find out.”

 

“I could've done it,” the inventor offered carefully. “After all, it looks like I'm magic-proof – what the hell was that, anyway? Not that I'm complaining or anything. But it was slightly... you know. Random. Seemed a little easy.” Call him paranoid, but that had gone over just a little too smoothly, hadn't it?

 

Loki took a step closer, gesturing toward the armour where the reactor was. “You do remember that I made this, don't you? While you were...” He made a short, aborted motion with his hand and Tony briefly thought of _pain, his body burning and all the damn apple's, no, Loki's fault_ , and quickly nodded. Yeah, he remembered alright. The prince nodded, his eyes darting away from Tony's closed-off expression, and continued: “Well, I don't know how you do it with your mortal technology, but as you are aware, I used my magic to craft your element, which left a residue. Apparently, the untainted magic didn't mix well with mine after... well.”

 

Tony narrowed his eyes at Loki's sudden uncomfortable tone, the way he had trailed off and was now glancing at the door. His magic had always been the purest part of the prince, the one he was most proud of, so what was this now?

 

“Loki?” he asked carefully, taking a step closer that sounded painfully loud with the armour on. “What has he done to you?”

 

The mage shifted his weight on his feet just as the alarm turned off, leaving Tony's ears ringing slightly with the sudden, deafening silence. Loki shook his head and opened his mouth, but the door slammed open before he had the chance to actually say anything.

 

Loki was reaching out for him, presumably to zap them away again, but Tony held up his hand in a sudden stroke of genius (or possibly madness) and called out: “Wait. Hold on. Don't shoot. We're here to help.” The brief glance Loki shot him clearly said _we are?_ , but the engineer decided to ignore that for now.

 

“Is that why you're wearing the suit, Mr Stark?” Fury drawled, stepping through between the agents kneeling next to the entrance with his hands folded behind his back, leather coat swinging around his legs. He did know how to make an entrance, Tony could give him that much.

 

“Nah,” he replied, “that's just because it makes me look taller.” He hadn't closed the faceplate, so he gave the director a broad smile with more teeth on display than strictly necessary. “I'm insecure like that. Now, change of topic, no time, you have an awful lot of screens up there in the main room. Any of those pick up New York yet?”

 

Fury's jaw set almost imperceptibly. One of his hands lifted from behind his back and the agents around him shifted, tensed. “If you came here to gloat, Stark...”

 

“Whoa, hold on. C'mon, Nick, we're all friends here.” Tony held up his hands placatingly. On second thought, that was probably not as reassuring as he had imagined, what with the repulsors placed in the middle of his palms, so he dropped them again fairly quickly and went on: “This is _my planet_ , Fury. So I've been abroad for a while, yeah, but just what the hell do you think I'm planning to do to it?”

 

“I think you're compromised,” the director responded, jerking his chin at Loki, who had so far stayed out of the whole conversation. He was watching the exchange warily, but left the field to Tony for now.

 

The inventor sighed heavily and shifted his weight on his feet, trying not to let his nervousness show. “Look, I don't have time for this,” he said. “We – that is, Loki, _Loki_ knows how to stop or at least delay this. We're here to help, alright? So let us help, for Norns' – I mean, for Christ's sake.” Aesir and their stupid oaths. He had spent way too much time up there. Thankfully, nobody deemed his little slip-up important enough to comment on, so he continued: “We can have all sorts of meaningful discussions afterwards, the operative word here being _after_. Come on, you want to save this planet as much as I do. _Let us help._ ”

 

Fury did not look happy with that. Not at all. In fact, Tony thought he might break a tooth or something if he clenched his jaw any harder. But from what he had seen of the man so far, the director might be proud (rightfully so, maybe) and paranoid (that probably came with the job), however, he wasn't stupid. He wouldn't waste two assets like them.

 

That was what Tony was counting on, at least.

 

“Fine,” Fury ground out after a few endless seconds. It sounded like it caused him physical pain, but the engineer could feel himself relax inside the suit. “But I'm keeping an eye on you two.”

 

Tony bit his lip to keep from asking whether that had been a pun, although Fury was focussing more on Loki than on Tony while he spoke. Clever man. Loki did sneaky and deceptive a lot better than Tony – he'd had some years' worth of experience, after all.

 

Still, the engineer saluted with mock-enthusiasm and exclaimed: “Sir, yes, sir! Now, where's the rest of your team? Can you get them on the line somehow? We need to make a decision, and I'd prefer if we did it quickly.”

 

Fury watched him out of narrowed eyes – pardon, one narrowed eye – for another second, then turned on his heel and barked at his agents to “move, we don't have all day”. Tony flashed Loki a smile that was both triumphant and reassuring, all the while making a mental note to continue their previously interrupted conversation. For now, they were busy.

 

~*~  
  
  


Fury equipped them both with earpieces connected to the team, which understandably led to some initial confusion. The first reaction to Loki's sceptical “do these work?” was a startled “what the _fuck_?!”, loud enough to make the inventor jump, from a voice he didn't recognise. Barton, presumably. Now this was going to be fun.

 

“Hi everybody,” Tony said brightly. “No shouting please, or screaming, autographs are scheduled for later, let's just all be professionals for a moment here, yeah?” He attempted to lean back against the wall casually, but was hindered by the suit. He might be really dexterous up in the air, but walking around in it was a pain in the ass.

 

“What the fuck's he doing on the line?” Barton demanded again.

 

Tony wasn't quite sure where to place his accent, but he was guessing Iowa. As sorry as he felt for the guy, they didn't have time for this right now. “Helping,” he answered sharply, just as Rogers scolded the... archer, was it?... for swearing on the comms. Oh God, this was going to be a mess. “Now, can we please save all the bitching for when we dealt with the aliens on our asses, because this is really not a good time, thank you.”

 

There was a moment of quiet arguing and angry muttering over the earpiece before someone shushed the others and after a few seconds, Rogers spoke up: “We're listening.” He didn't sound particularly happy, but he did seem professional, so that was something.

 

“Good. Lokes, that's your cue.” Tony waved a hand at the prince, who was leaning against the conference table on the Helicarrier's bridge, looking for all the world as though the hostile stares that met him from all around didn't bother him.

 

Still, he sounded tense and distant again – well, _businesslike_ – when he spoke into the comm: “I abandoned the sceptre on Stane Tower. With its help, you will be able to close the portal, but I do not want to risk touching it again. Not the Hawk, either. Let someone who has not been in contact with it handle this.”

 

“So that leaves me and the Captain,” Romanov muttered.

 

Tony raised his eyebrows, despite the fact that she wouldn't be able to see him. “What about Banner?” he asked.

 

“First of all, he touched it while you were busy _busting out the prisoner_ , not sure if that counts,” she replied with an acidic quality to her voice, “and secondly, he's not here.”

 

“Not here? What do you mean, not here?” the inventor demanded, frowning. “I thought he was part of the team.” He glanced around on the bridge, in case he had missed the small, curly-haired scientist slouching in some corner of the room.

 

“Oh, you don't know?” Barton asked almost gleefully. “How's that? Don't say your buddy hasn't told you.” Tony narrowed his eyes at Loki silently and the god pursed his lips dismally, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “He hasn't, has he?” the archer crowed. “That's funny, 'cause even I know by now. And I got knocked over the head a few times.”

 

“Really? I wouldn't have been able to tell,” Tony snipped out of reflex.

 

“Knock it off, the both of you,” Rogers cut in. Funny how he did that after _Tony_ had said something while Barton had been allowed to break radio silence for his absolutely non-productive blabbering. “Doctor Banner lost control after coming into contact with the sceptre, which was how Loki managed to stage his escape,” he summarised curtly.

 

Tony frowned harder. “That's not how it –“

 

“That's enough now, Anthony,” the prince interrupted. “If you could concentrate, gentlemen.” There was a cough from the comms. “And lady Romanov, of course.” Loki ignored the way that Tony clenched his jaw and glared (because seriously, he'd had enough of getting told to shut up from anybody and Loki of all people should know that) in favour of staring off into the distance, his arms still crossed in front of his chest and his brows furrowed. Very artfully dramatic. Very much unhelpful, too. “Where are you right now?” he asked. “How long until you reach the city? We will join you there.”

 

“Okay, now hold on for a second, that's not how it works,” Tony snapped. “Loki, can I talk to you for a moment?” The prince turned, eyebrows raised with an impatient expression on his face and Tony narrowed his eyes at him. “You don't get to tell me to shut up, so don't even try,” he told the god, even though it made his stomach twist with uneasiness due to the deeply ingrained knowledge that disrespect wouldn't do him any good combating with the knowledge that Loki wouldn't do anything to him. Probably. Taking a quick, deep breath, he went on: “We're not gonna wait 'til they're in New York, are we?”

 

Loki cocked his head to one side slightly, a sceptical expression on his face. “As I just said,” he answered slowly, “neither you nor me ought to touch the sceptre unless we want to risk Thanos –“

 

The inventor shook his head, cutting him off. “No, no, no, that's not what I'm talking about. I mean that you unleashed a fucking army on New York, regardless of the fact that it wasn't you who was sitting in the driver's seat at the time, and you're just gonna sit here and wait for them to do your dirty work?”

 

The prince pursed his lips, pushing away from the table to take a step closer, green eyes narrowed. “What exactly is it you are saying?” he inquired, his voice lowered. He looked a hair's breadth away from furious. Maybe he just wasn't used to such insolent tones from Tony.

 

“I'm saying,” he shot back, “that I'm not gonna be sitting on my ass and waiting for them to arrive. You could either just grab one of them and teleport there...”

 

“Yeah, I am _so_ not comfortable with that,” Barton mumbled over the comms.

 

Tony ignored the interruption. “...or, at the _very least_ , you and I get there and do some damage control because that place is a city full of unsuspecting people who are about to get _butchered_ if somebody doesn't do something.” He took a mechanical, clanking step closer and jabbed a finger at Loki. His voice had risen to a yell and he was honestly glad that the armour made up for some of the height difference between them so he wouldn't have to stare up at Loki during this. “So what I'm saying is get me the _hell_ out of here so I can do something 'cause I'm sure as fuck not about to watch this go down without doing something.”

 

For a moment, Loki's expression was caught at an unreadable state between incredulity and anger, but then he averted his eyes and his stance relaxed. Tony felt his shoulders sagging with relief in response; he might have gotten better at this, but he still wasn't the least bit comfortable with challenging the prince. Especially not now when he was having a hard time trusting him anyway. But he knew Loki, or at least hoped that he did, a little, and letting hundreds of people die in his name really wasn't his style.

 

“Fine,” the prince conceded. “We shall meet your Avengers in New York, then.” He didn't look happy with it, but he hadn't ripped Tony's head off, either, so there was that.

 

“They're not _my_ Avengers,” Tony muttered even as Loki stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder to transport them. “We just happen to play for the same team. Which is the same one _you're_ playing for, by the way, so they'd be your Avengers, too.”

 

“Yeah, no,” Barton interjected over the comm.   
  
“Oh, shut up, Legolas,” Tony told him, which was met with a snort just as they vanished from the Helicarrier's bridge. There was a burst of static from the comms as they re-emerged on top of Stane Tower and as soon as it had let up, Tony told the team: “We're in New York now, we're gonna try and do some damage control. The portal is over Stane Tower and the sceptre...”

 

He trailed off, looking around the roof. The device was still there, but Selvig was gone and he couldn't spot the sceptre.

 

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered and saw Loki's eyes widen when the god realised it, too. “The sceptre's gone. Somebody took the sceptre.”

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of New York (and a formal apology from the author).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... I would like to say both sorry and thank you to everyone who has stuck around until now. I've had a lot going on and couldn't seem to find concentration for more than little one-shots, I finished school, got sick, got better, it was all a bit of a mess, really. But you're not here for the author's note, so accept these cookies and tissues - you might need them - and have fun. I hope to be updating more regularly again!

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

Tony winced at Barton's sharp tone in his ear.

“You hear me laughing?” he replied just as snappily. “It's _gone_. It's gone and Selvig is, too.”

“I wonder who might have taken it,” the archer drawled. “Need help figuring it out, Sherlock?”

“Up yours, Barton,” the inventor griped sourly.

“Boys,” Romanov cut in, “this is really not the time.”

Acidly, Barton responded: “All I'm saying is that it's _awfully_ convenient that the only thing able to stop all this just happened to go missing, don't you think?”

Tony exhaled a sharp breath and responded sharply: “Look, I can't help it if you don't want to trust me, but the sceptre's _gone_. We can stand around here dithering some more or we could actually _do_ something.” He stepped away from Loki and looked around while he activated the thrusters. “I'm gonna try and do some damage control and keep my eyes open, there's no use in discussing this.”

Loki cleared his throat. “I believe I might have a better chance at finding it,” he remarked. “I can sense it when I'm close enough.” He spun in a circle and stared up at the sky, tensing as a new batch of the Chitauri creatures spilled from the crack in the sky.

The inventor nodded, swallowing, while he prepared himself to try the armour out in combat for the first time. Originally, he had simply made it for the challenge of it since there was no actual need for anything else in Asgard; he'd wanted the rush of flying and something to do with his hands.

Of course, once that was done, he had continued with all the materials he had; now, he ought to be able to hold his own in combat just fine.

“Here we go,” he muttered to himself and took aim with one repulsor so he could blast one of the aliens clear off its craft. It made a shrieking sound as it tumbled down toward the ground.

He didn't watch it landing.

Instead, he turned in the air and tried desperately to remember the layout of the city.

“I'm gonna try and clear out some of the larger public spaces around here,” he announced. “Loki, you go look for the sceptre, and quickly, please, because I doubt we're gonna hold these things off for long with like five people and a bunch of confused cops.”

The Chitauri were already flooding the streets and there were _hundreds_ of them; he was alone. He would have to focus on clearing hotspots where people would be gathered so he could save as many as possible; while it was harsh and he'd like nothing better than to dive down and just help whoever he could, Tony knew he was going to be able to help more people if he tried to do it with some sort of strategy.

And with something this big? He'd have to try and think in numbers. It wasn't cold. It was just what was best.

Right?

Determined not to waste any more time, he headed toward the closest large public space he could remember, taking out as many Chitauri on the way as he managed. This was  _very_ different from anything he had ever tried while he was in Asgard. He hadn't been in any actual mortal danger while he practised there as long as he took care not to crash into the castle. This? This could get really ugly really fast. 

Well. It wasn't like he had much of a choice.

From the moment he descended on the first crowded crossroads, filled with people panicking in their cars like honking at each other was going to help anybody, time began to pass in a blur. Soon, he was shouting instructions while trying to keep the Chitauri at bay – they were swarming the place like flies that were hard to swat away, it was maddening. Crowd control wasn't exactly a piece of cake, either; there were people who were happy to have someone to tell them what to do, and others who were so hysteric they didn't even seem to notice him at all. 

He kept trying.

After what couldn't have been too long, he spotted the quinjet descending into the streets a few blocks away and allowed himself a short, relieved exhale before he focussed back on what he had been doing before. Help was nice, sure, but that didn't mean he could start slacking now. Seven – no, six, without Banner – people to cover an entire city weren't exactly chances that made him feel too optimistic. 

So he continued, only distantly paying attention to the talk on the comms. It was mostly the Avengers interacting with each other, nothing that was directed at him, so he kept his focus on the people.

It took up a lot of his attention, but not enough to distract him from the fact that this was utterly hopeless. Sure, he was going to keep doing what he could, but the numbers of their attackers seemed endless. Something had to happen, soon, or they were done for. 

“I found Selvig.”

Well, maybe gods did listen to prayers occasionally. The flicker of a smile passed Tony's face when he heard Loki's voice.

“With the sceptre?” he asked, his movements never slowing.

Loki's voice sounded a little tense when he answered, slow like he was trying to sound non-threatening. “Indeed. It seems like Thanos has used his influence over it to take control of Selvig. He won't give it up.”

“Selvig is a friend of mine,” Thor boomed over the comms and Tony winced at the thunderer's loud voice in his ear. “You will not lay a finger on him, Loki!”

Now, the younger god just sounded annoyed. “I was not planning to. As I said before, I do not wish to expose myself to the sceptres influence again, someone who was not –” Indistinctly, Tony could hear another man's voice in the background before Loki's channel turned off abruptly.

“Loki?” he asked, alarmed. “Lokes?”

Something slammed into him from behind hard enough to throw him off-balance and Tony cursed his moment of inattentiveness while he struggled to stay in the air, flailing for a moment. More by luck than anything else, he managed to land a shot against the Chitauri who had knocked him from his course and gained a brief moment of respite.

“Loki!” he repeated, slightly frantic. He had _just_ gotten Loki back.

There was no answer from the god, however, Romanov spoke up: “I'm on my way to him, calm down. Focus, Stark.”

“I am focussed,” he snapped, narrowly dodging a shot fired at him. “Just- hurry, okay?”

There were some beats of silence over the comm while Tony mechanically continued fighting off aliens left and right, then Romanov replied in a strangely gentle tone: “I will.”

After that, the only talk in his ear piece were the Avengers coordinating with each other, Rogers barking orders and Clint giving out information about positions and movements. Tony operated by himself, mostly, although he was glad for what little clarity over the situation he got from the others' status reports.

It didn't look good.

“We've got the sceptre,” Romanov announced suddenly.

“Is Loki alright?” Tony demanded immediately, turning in the air to look back at _Stane fucking Tower_ as though there was any chance he would catch a glimpse of what was happening. 

“He's fine,” she replied, clipped, and the relief washing over him was almost enough to completely draw his attention away from the battlefield. “Said his magic short-circuited the comms.”

“Fuckin' magic,” the inventor muttered, though it was with a laugh in his voice.

“Damn straight,” Barton added. “Cap, there's someone coming at you from- what the _fuck_?” 

“Hawkeye? Coming from where? What is it?” Rogers demanded.

It sounded like the archer was scrambling for both his words and a new position as he answered. “Fucking- _space_ _whales_ , what the ever-loving fuck, get the fuck out of there, Jesus Christ –”

Tony turned to look up at the portal and felt his breath catch in his lungs at the creatures making their way through it. Really, he couldn't have put it better than Barton just did. This was way too high above his pay grade.

He pushed down his mounting panic, tried to clear his head, and looked around. He knew the quinjet had dropped the others off somewhere near the tower, which was exactly where the portal was. “Barton, where are you?”

“Trying to get off the goddamn roof,” came the strained answer and Tony rose a little higher until he spotted the small figure of the archer on the edge of a skyscraper.

“And how the hell are you gonna do that?” he asked, already heading toward Barton quickly.

“Grappling arrow, I got this.”

“No you don't. I'm coming to get you, stay where you are.”

He hadn't expected such a violent response. “I said I got this, don't you  _fucking_ touch me, Stark!” Barton snapped. Tony hadn't quite reached him yet, but was close enough to see him notch an arrow onto the bowstring and pull it taught. 

With a scowl, he responded sharply: “Get over yourself, Barton, we're on the same fucking team and one of these things is coming right fucking at you.” He came to a halt hovering over the roof beside the archer, then dropped down onto the concrete with a clang. “Hold on,” he ordered and sighed in frustration when Barton backed away, shaking his head.

“No fucking way, I'm not letting another Asgardian f–”

“I'm not an Aesir, for fuck's sake, Barton, we gotta get off the fucking roof!” Tony cut him off, flinging an arm out toward the- the _space whale_ , for lack of a better word, which was nearing the building with almost lazy, gliding movements which made no fucking sense whatsoever, floating in the air as it was.

The archer was about to respond when Romanov spoke up, just one clipped, sharp “Clint!” that made his mouth click shut and his jaw set.

“Fine,” he ground out. “Better make it quick.”

“Hold on,” Tony told him again, and a moment later, he was rising into the air again, a little clumsy with the unusual extra weight, but quickly bringing some distance between them and the building before the Chitauri whale crashed into the skyscraper with a horrifying sound of splintering glass and crumbling concrete. “Fuck,” Tony breathed quietly, his head spinning with the awareness that the building hadn't been cleared out. It was nauseating. “Where should I drop you off?” he asked, directed at Barton, who was clinging to him.

“Main event,” the archer responded, his voice tight with anger which Tony didn't think was directed at him. “Stane Tower.”

“Fucking hate that name,” the inventor muttered, but complied. He'd take any excuse to check up on Loki.

Even with the additional weight, they reached the Tower in less than a minute, never having strayed far from it in the first place. The door to the roof banged open just as they landed, Barton detaching himself from the armour as quickly as he could, while Romanov hurried out onto the roof, Loki on her heels with long strides. The SHIELD agent had the sceptre clutched in one hand and Loki was eyeing it warily.

Then, as though the situation hadn't been overwhelming enough as it was, several things happened in quick succession.

First, there was a roar ringing out from the streets below that left everyone shaken to the core, a guttural, deep sound, and when Tony turned toward it, he could see one of the Chitauri whale creatures crumpling to the ground, its plated armour shifting and creaking like something had brought it to an abrupt stop it wasn't equipped to handle. Whatever it was had occurred a few blocks over and the whale disappeared between the buildings as it sank onto the ground, but Tony was unable to make out the cause of the whole startling event.

Secondly, their comms crackled to life with Fury's voice barking: “Avengers, I need you all to get out of there ASAP!” Barton spoke out the “why?” they were all thinking with a frown and the SHIELD director responded with a curt, grim: “The council is nuking NYC.”

And thirdly, the door to the roof inched open again to let another person step out – and out of everything that was piling up right then,  _that_ was what made the blood drain from Tony's face so quickly he felt dizzy, grateful for the armour holding him up. 

“Somebody tell me what the hell is going on here!” the man demanded, but before anyone else could deign the exclamation with a response, Tony did.

“ _Obie_?” 

The man turned tow ard him, a  scowl etched into his face. “And who are you supposed to be?”

Tony was astonished for a moment until he realised he was still decked out in the suit, mask and all. There was no way Obie would be able to recognise him like this – and Tony felt frozen, for all that he'd been moving and in action before, busying himself so he didn't have the time to think and panic, right now, he didn't know what to do. 

He lifted the faceplate shakily, never took his eyes away from Obie for even a second as he watched the frown morph into an expression of surprise, then incredulity. Tony had thought he'd find it more satisfying than this.

“But you- I thought you were...” 

“Dead?” Tony finished sharply. “Yeah, that would have been convenient for you, wouldn't it? Maybe you should have shot me right away instead of being so greedy you had to take not only the company, but whatever you got for me, too. Then we wouldn't have this whole,” he waved an arm over the roof, “awkward situation.” 

He could see Obadiah's calculating glance sweeping over the roof, all eyes fixed on him all of sudden, and a moment later, he was laughing and coming toward Tony with a wide smile.

“Tony, kid, what are you talking about? I was worried sick about you, I'm so glad you're back.” 

“Oh, are you?” Tony gave him a grin that felt more like he was baring his teeth in warning. “Because the last time I checked, I was a _spoiled little brat_ who was supposed to die in an ambush and who you fucking sold off when that didn't work out. But do feel free to refresh my memory a little. It's been a while after all.” 

Obie shook his head. “Tony, you're confused, you  _know_ I only want what's best for you, I'm –”

“Take one step closer and I blast you of the fucking roof,” the inventor interrupted and he _hated_ the tremor in his voice and hands – although the latter was concealed by the suit – when he raised an arm to point a repulsor at Obie. “You'd better not fucking touch me.” 

From the side, he could see Loki take a small step closer toward Obadiah while the man froze in his tracks. Loki's expression was unreadable and for a moment, nobody moved. 

Some part of him had waited for this moment, Tony realised, had waited to confront Obadiah and pay him back for everything he'd done; throw everything that had happened in his face and wait for him to justify himself. There was a part of him that wanted to run and hide, but an even bigger one just under the surface was waiting to scream and rage and let out what had been building up for almost two years now. Everything that had happened, the warm, humming reactor in his chest, the scars littering his body, the flash of fear whenever someone raised their voice or a hand around him, he would have to deal with none of that if not for Obadiah. 

He said none of that. 

He didn't have the time, not right now, the rest of the world wasn't going to stop turning so he could have a breakdown.  _Later_ , he promised himself. He would have this confrontation later.

Instead, he said very quietly: “You have no idea how much I want to push you off this roof right now. But you know what, I'm not going to, because here's the difference between us, I'm  _better than that,_ Obie.” 

“I'm not,” Loki cut in before Obadiah had a chance to respond, his voice cold in a way that Tony had rarely ever heard. “So if I see you do so much as look at Anthony in a way I dislike, know that I have given you a warning and you will not be given another.” 

That seemed to help Obadiah find his words again. “Now look, I'm sure we can...” 

“If you say we can talk about it, then Obie, I swear to god, I'm gonna make up my mind and shoot you,” Tony snapped. 

The rest of the team, who had been watching the exchange silently thus far, seemed to come back to motion slowly, Rogers ahead of everyone else as he spoke up: “stark, do you want to explain –”

“Look, Captain, I'd love to have a chat, but there's a nuke heading for New York and an army of aliens swarming the streets, could we save the pleasantries for later?” Tony interrupted him. “I need you to lead your team. I've got an idea about the nuke, but these things are starting to absolutely swarm the city, you might wanna do something about that. And somebody should check in on doctor Banner.” 

“Doctor Banner?” Barton echoed. As if in response, another ear-shattering roar rang out through the street and Barton winced. “Ah.” 

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. The sound had shaken him out of his motionless state and he cast one last long look at Obie before he turned away. “Director Fury, can I get an ETA on that missile?” 

“You have about five minutes. Closer to four,” came the reply in his ear. “You wanna share with the class, Stark?” 

“Not right now, no,” Tony answered. “Just – Romanov?” 

“What?” She was looking at him out of narrowed eyes, as if she was trying to figure him out. Tony liked to think that he wasn't quite that easy.

“Don't close the portal just yet.” 

He snapped his faceplate shut. It was time to get moving again, he couldn't stand around here all day, his personal crisis could take the back seat for now. If he'd learned anything since this whole mess had begun, it was functioning until he had a more or less safe space to let go. And right now, he desperately needed to function. 

“Why would I not close the portal?” she demanded, gesturing upwards at the Chitauri still pouring out. “We've got the sceptre, we can stop it!” 

Tony shook his head. “You can't stop it, you can delay it, the army's still gonna be there.” He took a steadying breath and closed the face plate of his suit. “But I know just where to put our missile.” He was already a foot in the air when he saw the realisation on Loki's face and watched him turn sharply. 

“Anthony, get back down here!” 

“I'm gonna be right back, it's gonna be fine,” he responded with an ease in his tone that he didn't feel. “But somebody's got to take care of it, we can't let them level a city full of people.” 

“Anthony, don't you _dare_!” Loki was shouting now, Tony could see the flicker of magic dancing around his hands, but he knew Loki couldn't actually do anything unless he wanted to damage the suit and cause Tony to crash down into the street. “Thor, get him down!” 

_ I should have kissed him goodbye _ , he mused with a lump in his throat. It was unfair, really, that nothing ever seemed to work out in their favour. Something or someone always seemed determined to get between them, and each time Tony felt more helpless to do something about it, each time it seemed more unmanageable. 

There was no use in whining about it, he supposed.

Tony cast another look down at Loki, at Thor holding him back, Obadiah who still left a sour taste in his mouth and the rest of the team, who the Captain was starting to shepherd together into some semblance of order, then he turned in the air and sped toward the edge of the city. 

He really, really should have kissed Loki goodbye.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* I'm so sorry


End file.
